A Low Art

It's funny, how I wanted to kill myself, and when I do, I wanted to live again. To seek out those who have wronged me. To seek out the path of revenge and vengeance. Coming towards the space of nothingness, I carry with me a sack. A sack full of words that I have said, that they have said, and the words that I've heard. Mine was of considerable size, but full of hate. I've always thought that some people love me, but I was wrong. No one ever loved me, and with that knowledge, something inside me snapped. I wanted to kill.

It all started when I was in the seventh grade. My family hated me, and I hated them back. They would always belittle me, saying things like I was just a mistake. My father was a rich man, but he was also an alcoholic. He would always return home drunk and keeps on barking orders around the house. My mother was always against my father's drinking habit as she lost her former boyfriend on an accident involving a drunk truck driver. My older brother, he was famous to say the least, and he would always come home with a different girl but they all have one thing in common, they always are disgusted by me to the point where they would slap me for no reason, but my brother never protected me. He would always laugh with them. And whenever there was a fight and I wanted to cut in, I would get beat up by everybody. After that, they would cage me and make me eat grass. They would only let me out when it's morning. In school, they would always think of me as a freak because as soon as they have found out that I was being caged, they would call me an animal, a dog, a good for nothing, and so on.

It all continued until college, but after that, everything went good for me. I met a man who would always protect me from my family, he would always beat up my brother every time he insulted me. He would insult my father and my mother, and he would succeed every time he insulted them. One day, he asked me to marry him, and with glee inside my heart, I said yes. I thought that he was the one who will protect me, my guardian angel, but I was wrong. He would always cheat on me and whenever I confront him about it, he would say that he was under the influence of alcohol, although I would cringe every time he said that he was under the influence of alcohol as it reminded me of my father, I would believe him every single time. It was probably out of love, but people who've heard of the story, say it's a stupid decision.

Until one day, I reached my breaking point. I just couldn't take it anymore. Inside my mailbox, a letter was laying there, it was from my husband. I was happy to find out that he is still alive because he was gone for an entire year. But when I opened the letter and read it, my happiness turned into agony. For in the letter, it said that he wanted divorce, for he found a woman more beautiful than me, and he wanted to marry her but he couldn't unless I signed the divorce papers that came along with the letter. My whole world shattered at that instant, I thought that I found happiness, my fairy tale ending, but I was wrong, so wrong. And with a depressed heart, I went to the gun shop, bought a gun, went home, and killed myself.

Now that I am in this space of nothingness, I feel enraged because of what happened in my life and I wished upon myself that I wanted to kill everyone and then he appeared. A man in a cloak approached me with a visible smirk, he whispered in my ear, "I've heard that you have a wish, and honey, I can give you that wish, the only thing that you have to return to me, is the happiness that you will get from that." And with an evil smile, I agreed to him, and here I am, back in this cold world, and the only thing that awaits me here, are the people who've hurt me. And I will give them the one thing they haven't seen from me, my unbecoming.

It was easy. Killing them all, watching their eyes begging for mercy before I shot their heads off. I was happy, insanely happy. It was like a drug, and I'm addicted to it. And then, I finally found them. My mother and father, my brother and his family, and him. The one I thought to be my guardian angel. They were celebrating something, and as I got closer to the house, it must've been days after my funeral, as words of sorry are still littered across a wall where my picture was hung up. I smiled seeing that, not because they "cared", but because it's funny. Because after I'm done with them, it'll be their funeral that will be next after mine. And with a crazy smile full of anger, I walked in my house. There were bottles of drinks across the living room floor. One might say they drown their sorrow by being drunk, but I knew the real reason. They drown their happiness by being drunk knowing that I'm dead. There were voices coming from the backyard and I went to the kitchen window and saw them; Celebrating. It was clear to me that they are happy that I am gone. But let's see what their faces will look like after seeing me.