My Demons

Public

Possible tw
Mild language and the mention of suicide.
Read with caution
Also, none of what I wrote here about fans is what I think is true. I wrote it in Tyler's fit of anger.

'You're just some sad boy who screams the pain away.'

The line kept replaying itself over and over again in my mind. And I couldn't stop thinking about how he's right.

Damn straight.

I didn't even bother to respond to him. Its useless trying to talk to him and its useless trying to get him to listen. There's no point.

No point in talking to me, or no point in something else?

"I don't even know." I mumbled, walking around the closed venue.

I pulled open the door and quietly walked outside, avoiding all eyes from passing people.

You've lost all hope again, haven't you?

I quietly groaned, and nodded a little. "Guess I have."

Then I've done my job.

"Since when is your job to make me lose hope and lose all sense of purpose?" I started, voice growing louder. "You're just a stupid voice! When did you become sentient? When did you get a mind of your own! And when did your main goal become making me suicidal!" I screamed, not caring about the people around me.

Told you you're just a sad boy who screams the pain away.

I reached up and started pulling on my hair, accidentally ripping a few strands out.

Nice going. How're you gonna cover up the bald spots that are gonna come if you keep pulling at your hair? Shave your head again? You looked like an egg.

"Maybe I will shave my head again! Not like there's anyone to stop me! You drove them all away!"

You're drawing a crowd.

"And I couldn't care less!"

Maybe you should. Your fans might be out there.

"And why would they care? They've never met me! Chances are they never will! They're just depressed teens who 'relate' to my music!" I over exaggerated the word relate.

"Tyler?" Someone asked, stepping out from the surrounding people.

"What?" I snapped.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Losing my mind, yelling at the voices in my head. Just another casual Monday!"

"Calm down," The girl started, slowly walking towards me with her hands out like I might attack her.

"Who are you even? Why do you care?" I asked, stepping back.

"It doesn't matter who I am or why I care. What matters is that you're okay. Come with me."

"No, screw off."

Her eyebrows furrowed and an exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "We went to school together. Cindy?"

That bitch who always made fun of you for talking to yourself in eighth and ninth grade.

"Oh, you. What do you want." It was more of a statement than a question.

"To make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine. Go away."

She sighed and stopped walking towards me and I stopped walking back.