52. (BoyxBoy)

52. Page 5.

 
 To wake up one day and know you're going to die? That's a big thing.

So why did Aiden Matthews feel so... nothing. He felt cold, and emotionless. His life didn't flash before his eyes, he didn't have a nervous breakdown, and he didn't even shed a tear. Instead, he went to school like every other day.  Wednesday, 21st February. Today was the last day of life. It was the 52nd day of the sixteenth year of his life. He was born on January the 1st - New Year's Day. Now he was getting lost in numbers and dates. But that was OK.

He wasn't confused. He wasn't upset. If anything, he was verging on the edge of slight happiness. Slight happiness.

No more hurt. No more bullying, threats and abuse from classmates, and he would be free from the grasps of his mother.

Aiden didn't believe in heaven . . . or hell.
 Well, he did believe in hell: he was already in it.

He didn't believe in God. He couldn't imagine a person so sick. He was worse than all the terrorists, rapists and paedophiles in the world, because he had created them. Who would force this life upon anybody?

Aiden didn't wallow in self-pity. He simply wasn't that kind of person. He wasn't a happy person either. To be honest, he wasn't much of any kind of person. He'd never really opened up to anybody - not even himself. He didn't know who the hell he was, even after sixteen long years, and to be quite frank, that scared him senseless.
 He didn't do much in life, except for staring at his ceiling whilst lying on his bed. Just do it. If you're ever upset, bored, angry, scared, lonely, stare at your ceiling. It will eat up that emotion, and spit it out. You will be left with a feeling of pure emptiness. You have to lie down on your bed or floor, or whatever surface you can lie safely on and stare. Your ceiling has to be bare (and preferably white).

Do it now. Focus on your breathing and breathe normally. You might want to close your eyes for twenty seconds to get in the right mind frame first. When you open your eyes, you will literally feel the ceiling suck away your emotion. You'll be left solemn, cold and emotionless, but secretly happy. That happiness is hidden away. You can't feel it. You don't even know it's there. You don't even know you're happy, because you can't be. There is no key to unlock that happiness. It's trapped, but shouting for help. It's struggling and screeching, and pounding on your heart. It's running through your veins. It's rushing through your body, SCREAMING at you. Why won't you let it out?

Because you can't. You don't even know it's there, for God sake. So now you're getting angry. Anger and bitterness are seeping through your skin. They can escape easily.

So now you're confused. Why is the anger coming out of you, when the happiness can't? How do you even know about the happiness now? You don't.

Jealousy. You're jealous of everyone and everything. They're better than you. Who isn't? They're not confused and lost and angry are they?

So you're lonely. Lonely, because you are the only person in the world. How do you even know other people are alive? Are they? Do they think like you? Are you the only one? No one can comfort you. Nobody even likes you. They don't need you, they're better than you.

I expect you're upset now, and why shouldn't you be? You should be crying into your duvet, you sad little person.

Then the cycle starts all over again, so it's better to just stare at the ceiling. Stare and keep staring, until your mother comes into room to hit you, because she fucking hates you. Or maybe you'll have to go to school, just to be kicked in the head, lying in a heap on the floor, because your peers fucking hate you as well. Or maybe you'll just stab yourself, because you fucking hate yourself too.