I smile at Tyson as he drives away, a thoughtful look on his face. I hope my smile was believable. I wouldn't want him to worry. I hope he doesn't know that I'm not doing well at all. I don't want anyone to know. They shouldn't have to worry because of me.
As soon as the car is out of sight, I run back into the house and run into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. My breathing picks up its pace and I slide down the door onto the floor, trying to keep my breathing in control. It doesn't works. It's not working.
Why the fuck isn't it working?!
Frustration builds in me. But frustration for what? What could I possibly want at this moment? My head aches and I dig my nails into my arms, hoping to draw out blood but scared of it at the same time. As I always am. What's happening? Why am I like this? Why can't I just have a few good days together? Why can't I live without this disgusting carcass following me around, dragging me down and taking it with me to the depths of the earth, burying me in the weight it has forced upon me?
Why am I like this?!
A frustrated scream tears through me. It felt so good to scream. So good to voice my frustration without actually doing it. I scream again, but this time tears follow it. My throat feels raw as I torture my vocal cords, screaming so much that the hurting brings a sense of relief. I feel so glad for the tears too. What is happening? Why is this happening?
My mind clouds itself and my hands start shaking. Sobs leave my body as every horrible thing that has ever happened to me floods into my mind, the poison filling my brain and killing every positive thought I've managed to put into my head.
Why am I not good enough?!
The frustration deepens and I take a random shirt, circling it around my neck. My hands shake as I do this, fear gripping me by the neck. Would I? Could? Should I?
I pull, testing it out. Chocking myself. Immediately a sense of disgust fills me and I pull it away from me. How could I disappoint all those people rooting for me? How could I?
How could I be so sick in the head that choking myself has become an option?
It feels like vines filled with poison are wrapped around me. Twisted around me. Like my mind. I'm twisted. Sick. The poison flows through my body, make me motionless and stiff.
With another sobbing scream, I tear the sleeve of shirt. I stare at the pieces of cloth that used to have a purpose. They don't have a purpose anymore. I took it away. How could I ever take away something's purpose?
But how could I stare at something that I used to try and suffocate me?
Why does it have to be my mind that monsters reside in? Singing bloody lullabies when I can't sleep, drowning me in poison and tears. Why does it have to be my thoughts they follow? Why does it have to be my mind they torture? Why does it have to be my hands they controlled?
A sob leaves my body without my consent, spilling out of my mouth like a fountain of misery. Of poison. Burning everything around me. Burning me. Like fire. Consuming me. I fucking hate crying.
"Why am I here?" I say weakly, my voice completely hoarse and useless. Like everything else about me. Fuck, I'm so pretentious. Making everything a fucking metaphor. Making everything about me. Selfish. Tyson was out there having genuine problems. And I'm here making everything about me. Selfish. Can't even put my twisted mind on hold to help out someone who's done so much for me. Who brought me out of my nightmarish reality and took me to a place where I could heal.
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Her Last WishTeen Fiction
Tiana Collin's life is horrible and she knows this. With an abusive father and a druggie for a mother and with absolutely no friends at school, she didn't think her life meant much. So she decided to end it. But before she ended her life, she wants...