Random (Probably Gay) One Shots

The Day I Went For A Walk. Also, The Day I Lived.

I don't remember the date that it was. Or the exact temperature it was outside. 

I can't even explain how I was feeling that day. Somewhere between numb and alone. Maybe I felt utterly and completely isolated or beyond the petty feeling of pure frustration. 

Either way, I had to get away. 

I know for a fact I can't just 'run away' or move. It isn't that simple. It was never that simple and it never will be. However, I can tell you that none of that even mattered to me. I couldn't bring myself to care about the people around me. I wasn't able to give two shits about my final grades and how they would effect my GPA and any chances of getting into a good college. Hell, I didn't even care about college. 

I was gone. So far gone. 

All I knew, was that this world was a shitty place and I no longer wanted to be a part of it. 

I had done so many things. My skin was in pain, that I myself inflicted. My stomach had been neglected from any kind of food that it craved.

I lived off of bitter tea and lots of exercise. 

I had to exercise. If I didn't, how was anyone going to love me? Since, you are supposed to love yourself before you love anyone else, I had to make myself perfect. 

Flawless.

It didn't happen. I hated myself and I knew, I knew, 

That nothing in this whole damn world would or could change my mind. 

Its hard when there isn't a single thing about yourself you actually like. Yea sure, my eyes are a bright blue color and I have the blonde hair most girls dream of having but it wasn't enough for me. I had too pale of a skin tone and too big of a stomach. My height is short as fuck and my attitude, flamed by my irritation and frustration, made it so that the tiniest of things would set me off. 

Music has always been something,  someone that I have clung onto. 

It would take a lifetime to try and explain to someone just how much music has helped me. With playing instruments it has given me the chance to completely fade away into a new world. Although I never really had the confidence for it, singing has always left me with a slight tingly feeling inside. I preferred it over the emptiness. However, it never lasted long. Once that feeling of complete safety ended, I would become angry. 

I knew my family never noticed. Maybe it was because I was good at hiding it. Or because I had always taken out all the anger out on myself rather than them. Either way, they never found out. 

They never found out about the long nights of contemplating how I would kill myself. Or reading, trying, attempting, wishing and just wanting anything to take away my pain. Those nights when I would read until the time I needed to wake up, would always end with me going through my day with puffy cheeks and red eyes. 

No one noticed. 

I can't say I minded it though.

My addiction of destroying myself drug on even more. It became, intoxicating to know that no one knew just what I was doing when no one was around. I loved knowing, that I could have killed myself and no one would have noticed for hours, giving me enough time to make sure I was dead. 

One day, I decided to go through with it.

Death. 

I wasn't afraid of it. I'm still not afraid of it. I don't see why I should be. 

How ironic would it be though? 

'The girl who attempted suicide has a fear of death.'

For a while, I wish I would have been afraid of death. At least if I was, I would not have tried to kill myself. But, in the end, I tried.