Dreams Over Reality

Brainless

I can't remember a time I didn't want to just blow my brains out.
So basically any time prior to 7th grade.
Strange how young I was and yet I still wanted to place the cold barrel of a gun to my forehead or in my mouth, trembling in fear, anxiety and adrenaline as I slowly pull the heavy trigger and letting the bullet burst my skull like a piñata.
Visceral isn't it?
The idea is such a strange one.
Yet intriguing to many just as much as it is to me.
Like the numerous times I've walked in a busy street without looking.
Or the times I've played with sharp knives and only escaped with a scratch.
The many times I've escaped death.
So many things and yet I always bring myself to buying a gun and blowing my skull open.
I'd make a statue out of it if I could.
Lifelike.
Just me in a chair, wall plastered with bits of brain and large splats of blood across the wall, gun dangling off of my finger.
Just me, brainless.
No pulse.
No life.
Nothingness.
Now I bet you're thinking how I'm not hospitalized for being psychotic or held against my will to prevent me.
Well, nobody really knows.
Not a single soul around me in my household knows the extreme want to blow my fucking brains out.
And it's been going on for 6 years now!
Crazy! Hahahaha.
A wonderful world isn't it?
Yet I cry myself to sleep
Resent myself
Grab a knife to slice my wrists open and bleed out but instead tremble as the blade is pressed against my skin only to throw it in the sink and cry until I can't cry anymore.
Too much?
Other times I just wanna walk.
Just walk in one direction until there are blisters on my feet, my legs tremble from exhaustion and I just fall to the ground in agony.
Nobody would ever know where I went.
It's a great plan.
Never done it.
Never will.
Though the thoughts are still there.
Probably will still be there when I'm in a chair, brainless.