Dreams Over Reality

A Mind-Numbing Adventure

It's so interesting when you have the power in your hands to take control.
Genuinely horrifying.
The frame fitting perfectly within my hands and the bullet lodged into the chamber.
One second.
All it takes.
One fucking second and it would be all over.
I didn't think about the recoil or the blisters that formed on my hands after each shot.
I thought about turning that barrel at myself.
A day to be filled with fun and memories turned into a day to be stuck inside the mind of a psychopath.
Fuck the pain, fuck the world and fuck me.
Nobody gives a shit anyway.
No real reason to keep the world waiting, is there?
I freeze once the magazine is empty.
I wonder what happened as my ears ring and my heart beat slows down.
The slight memory fades into existence before Im snapped back to reality.
This place is filled with long stretches of road where nobody could find me.
Nobody would ever find me.
I could just take my bag and run.
Take the gun too.
Maybe.
I dunno.
I think about it then I stop to realize what Im thinking about.
Why should I?
Then the anxiety spikes again and the pit in my stomach forms only to realize that i'd be alone forever anyway.
Nobody gives a shit.
Why should I?
Fuck.

The second chapter commences.
The ride home im stuck in memories.
Im stuck wondering what the fuck I should have done.
I coulda died years ago and I should have.
The car, the fucking split head, that dumb bitch who manipulated and broke my heart.
They shoulda killed me but here I am over 5 to 10 years after those events and still wondering why I didn't slice my fucking throat.
Crazy.
Always will be.
I feel like its a comfort tool now.
A comforting idea that killing myself is the only way to escape but I cant.
So self harm is the only way to express that pain silently.
If I weren't stuck in FL i'd have a bloody bath and a melancholic mind.
I just don't know where to hide the scars.
Where would it be the most easy?
I dunno.