I'm Not Okay But it's Alright - Fransykes

4. Relief

"Oliver?" My mother called. I sighed and got up.

"What?" I shouted down the hall.

"What's this package doing here? Did you order something?" She questioned.

I perked up. They were here. "Oh, actually uh, yeah." I rushed downstairs and grabbed the box. I retreated to my room and locked the door. I had what I need, I could finally say goodbye.

I laid the gifts out, separating them and placing notes with my family members names to explain who got what. They'd come into my room at some point, see the gifts, and if they didn't get the news of my death already they would soon which would explain the reason for their existence.

There was no need to wait any longer. I grabbed my things and rushed out the door. "I'm going out, Mom!" I shouted.

"Okay, be home by ten!" She told me. I nodded, but chuckled quietly. If only I could be.

I didn't feel very bad for what I was about to do. My family would get over it. I was just another person, another teen lost to an unexplainable mindset. One that just might make it on the news, "Teenager Oliver Sykes committed suicide yesterday night," but would be forgotten soon.

I didn't matter. My family didn't matter. No one mattered, nothing mattered. And that was that. End of story, roll the credits. Cast: seven+ billion people, animals and everything in between. Director: God. Special thanks to: Earth, for putting up with humans bullshit.

Thanks for watching, Nothing Matters. My next biggest thing. It'll originally be a novel, then movie directors will be so amazed by my skill they'll have to make it a movie. It'll raise so much money, get so much fame.

But it won't matter.

I'm getting ahead of myself, making stories that will stay in the soon-to-die mind that is, mine.

After getting lost in thought once more, I arrived at my destination. The run down building I'd been to days before. Where I'd cut to the point I blacked out, waking up to a stranger who still remained as such.

The roof was where I sat. I pulled out my shiny, stolen objects. Whenever I bought pencil sharpeners to take out the razors, I was always nervous my mother or father would grow suspicious. I bought them so frequently they began asking questions, to which I responded "I lost them. You know me," with a small chuckle. After that, I stopped buying them while they were with me. It seemed though I could never obtain enough of the small metals. They also dulled quickly. Sharper, big ones always caught my attention.

I rolled my sleeve up. Last night I'd gone so far I almost completed the task I was about to do now. My arms were a massacre, more than their usual appearance. It was hard to find a spot where I could get in a cut. At the same time, I could just reopen the deepest ones.

That I did. I brought the blades down over the previous cuts and cut over them, or lined it up over them and pushed down. Before I knew it the familiar metallic smelling liquid was dripping onto the concrete roof floor, staining it most likely. I didn't make a note, but why not make something?

I swabbed my finger over my arm and began writing on the concrete.

Oh well, it read when I was done.

I swung my legs over the side of the building, staring out at the sunsent. The blood loss being enough to kill me wasn't definite, so I considered jumping. I probably would, really. Even though I already felt the effects of blood loss coming onto me.

I sighed. A long, dragged out, exhale. As if I was letting everything out. The pain, the numbness, the forced nihilism. Whether anything mattered or not, I was where I'd wanted to be for years.

I was almost dead.

I leaned forward, taking in the brisk cold air of fall. Taking in the last air I'd breath. What a shame, I wouldn't live to see another summer. To see my brother finally settle on a girl, rather than five. To see myself off in college, find a man.

I was probably gay. No, I was gay. I think. But after previous experiences, I didn't care for romantic attraction. Or really attraction of any sort. I was nihilistic for a reason. It was easier to deal with breakups when you think nothing matters. It was easier to die with no fear when you think nothing matters, when you know nothing matters.

What a shame I couldn't see the things most would dream of seeing. What a shame that small part of me that wanted to see those things couldn't. But what a relief I didn't have to. What a relief I didn't have to go on with a world that shoved optimism in your face before stabbing you behind your back.

I wouldn't see myself out of high school, or to seventeen, to my brother's wedding, to a friendship or another relationship. And that was a relief.

So I leaned forward. I let go. I fell.

I think.

~_~_~_~

Stay Alive came on and I wheezed

So I looked up Kellic for this Halloween-themed Kellic (or maybe I'll make it a Fransykes - who kno) I wanna write in advance and I found this ad for a chick named Kelli C. Holmes who is the CEO of something

I laughed so hard I got a headache and I'm trying not to laugh again