Someone decided that 2+2=4 and that it goes ABC and society decided I was an outcast and the jocks at school decided to punish me for it to paint me black and blue like my pale skin was a blank canvas. But I decided to add red to that already black and blue canvas and I decided that I wasn't made for this life. And I to move on to the next life as soon as possible. I made those decisions. Me and no one else. It was so goddamn freeing. I was deciding my own life, well at least the end of it. It felt like it was the only choice I had ever made and I loved every second. I didn't regret a single drop of blood that rolled down my slit wrist. Didn't wish away even one heave as my body still clung to life and tried to get rid of the pain killers in my system. Smiled a true smile for the first time in a long time because I was finally free. And I didn't panic as black took over my vision. Black was my favorite color and it was leading me to freedom.
