Sad bakugo Oneshots

Life

⚠️WARNING ⚠️
This chapter seems to have more triggers in my opinion. This is based on my personal life experiences, so please don't judge.
Suicidal thoughts and actions are written such as overdose
I understand people don't want to be reminded of school so in this chapter it is mentioned as well as not in the greatest way.
There is also mention of sexual assualt
There is mention of abortion and other specific topic based on anatomy.
I tried my best to put all of the trigger warnings. Please comment if you see any other triggers and I appreciate my readers who I hope enjoy this. Thank you for reading and being here for my first oneshot book.
I hope that you know that I love each one of you no matter race or gender to the way you look because we are still human and we make mistakes and that is nothing to be ashamed of but to learn from.

Bakugo P.O.V

As a new white ray shines through the window and the curtains with the delicate fabric it contains, showing the beauty of the many tan hues that weave together to make the cloth I love so much gleam the reflection of the designs anew. The browns are varied as sand dunes at dawn, as pretty as the lightest of wood carried ashore upon windswept waves. Amid the light I see the beams as if they wave with the undulating pleats, yet in truth they are strong and true, giving structure and form. As the moments pass the intensity rises and soften, bold and gentle, telling of the day that passes in the world beyond. 

Even so when the day glistens towards the comfort of my essence. I wake up to the presence of a constant pain arising toward the implementation that is the beginning of my thoughts. As my body rises to my command. The throbbing reply of the intense pain that has occurred began to worsen. If only the brightens of the sun can not only reflect against the curtain but reflect the mortality of my being. If the existence of human beings's boredom did not come to manufacture the explanation of education. Then I would not come to the conclusion of getting up in my ending. 

“What if '' statements are the beginning of my choices. I do not plan the path towards my rejoices. What if I say something stupid and it begins the laughter of enjoyment rather than agreements? What if the one I confess to is the one that expresses his love as regards to the liking of my skin dawning upon my nakedness? What if they stop me from my listing of interest rather than incest? What if I get blessed with a chest with no breast? What if I looked good in a vest or would it just make me become depressed? What if I’m finally impressed by my will to succeed in an acid test at best for my chest investing an inhalation and exhalation? What if I’m still stressed? What if I’m finally put at rest?

To which these thoughts began in my mind. Resulting in making me known as a wise man of defining a migraine. When changing the cloth, assisting a touch escorted by the removal of my fellow condolences. Flashbacks gain control within the dull ache of my mindset during the memories of my defender becoming my competitor. Reminiscence of my mischance is the incubus based on the realization of my life long salvation. Which is why my quick reaction corresponds with my realization that my anatomy is greater when enveloped by covers. Even if I want admiration for my awakening in self-awareness. I must not originate an indistinguishable way of the removable in relation to clothing coming off my skin, yet this time purposely rather than forcefully. 

When I prepare part of my look that supposedly defines me as a student of the making of the gibberish we call coaching. It makes me wonder how the uniform defines my making even though I’m still blamed for the attitude my parents have informed me in my birthing. To which comes to the conclusion of why am I even given the time and thought to even decide of no abortion but admiration. Considering you had the audacity to continue with the thought we could become a happy family to be created in this world that suffices survization yet it has come to destruction within our awakening. 

As life dawns on at me while in the process of consuming my thoughts that still pain through my mentality and physicality. Such as the physics that I consume as a control of my thoughts that proclaims my anatomy as civics to no longer be followed yet disowned. As my thoughts swallowed the idea of the so-called treatment which had me lunging toward the bin of self sacrifice for my aching that swelled in my stomach. Not only did it reach toward the pain within my acids. In addition, for it seemed to follow the pain through eyesight accompanying my arms no longer in the company of my baggy clothing. To which the men that betrayed my mother find out my self harm along with my self hatred. Maybe that is why she has become so brash as if relating towards my brashness that confines directly across my wrist. Even though it is known to be painful to me it’s bliss. Like a soft kiss that I will never receive considering I'm not a good sight to be seeing. To which I dismiss their persisting questions of “why do you do it”? It pissed me off knowing they dont understand my knowledge of “I have no fucking clue”. I wish I knew why I do it but it goes on and off. On days there is a reason while others are just a day to show Im loved through a pocket knife while Im betrayed through my essence along with real life. Afterlife seems to be a better choice. 

I hate getting up for school because it is the aftermath of these twisted thoughts. Yet, I have the dream to die. Might as well die as a hero…..plus ultra.