Three Reasons To Die || A.W.G

|| Agonizing Torment & Feelings of Remorse ||

I am one of those, melodramatic fools. Neurotic to the bones no doubt about it.  - Basket Case - green day

//

In a state of agonizing torment, birthed from the never ending feeling of remorse, created by the sudden realization of my complete stupidity and ignorance; I buried my face deep into the black fabric of my pillow a little over my ears as if to restrict myself of the mass majority of my senses. Silently I beat myself up inwardly; Jet hadn't made a sound in his room other than the ruckus of his knuckles racking the wall in aggression, punching dents into the wallpaper of his room probably. 

Pathetically, I so badly have this desire to intoxicate my veins and body and psychotic mind with a large dosage of my self medication, just as anxiously the flesh of my wrists itch for more stories to be etched onto their surface, and not stories which romanticized the idea of cutting through layers of skin but stories of resentment towards myself and stories of extreme remorse which never seemed to leave and most of all anger. At myself mainly because I thought carving would solve my problems; my once-solvable problems which now were a lost cause. 

And so, because I'm this charity case, forgotten at the very bottom of the pile, I begin to finger the outline of the blades beneath my duvet covers, and albeit I had hidden them in such a blunt position, I wasn't afraid of being discovered, my room was the only privacy I'd ever been given, ever with Jet at least and I cherished it despite my negotiable hatred for being lonely and alone. Negotiable because sometimes being alone with no one to peer over your shoulder was peaceful.

Through the thick build of the cemented wall which made a separation between me and Jet's room I hear "Hunter" pronounced as a sneer and after a short pause he speaks again "What the fuck?" So I come to the hasty and rather blatant conclusion that these words are just one half of a conversation.

And because both me and Jet share this undying trait of curiosity I push myself up and off the uncomfortable surface my bed provides and shuffle over to press my ear against the wall and listen further.

"You know what? Liz was right, you're a lost fucking cause and I can't believe my life's been put on the line because of your sorry self." And then this loud bang rings in my ear, and if I were to guess, Jet threw his three year old phone pretty hard against the wall and yet I wouldn't be surprised if it was still in tact. 

After the ringing clears it becomes this cord of jumbled curses that I don't understand no matter how hard I press my ear against my cold wall. In an anxious notion I claw my black hair back aggressively, tugging on strands to emphasize my panic and guilt and anger which boils up in the smallest pit of my stomach and just sits and bubbles because fuck, I had just screwed up a mildly okay relationship which could have been stitched back up with just two or three family therapy sessions. 

Then, it's my turn to mumble this messy turmoil of unconnected curses underneath my breath and so quite that even I struggle to process the junk slipping out from my pale, scabbed lips. Then I scowl to seemingly nothing but myself with a wave of heat bypassing the skin of my neck and spine because I'm just so mad and upset at my actions which resembled the actions of hormone infested teenager rather than a young adult and I unconsciously begin rubbing the irritated skin of arms harshly possible opening up old slits that began to close in on themselves and I thanked whoever was listening that I'd worn the black long sleeve rather than pale grey like I'd debated. 

Longingly I take this quick glance at my duvet because I know exactly what lies beneath and Ii know the exact measure of relief it's capable to give me and it makes me want to mutter every curse under the sun specifically at myself for being such a majestically and royal fuck up. 

And I pray that my muscles wouldn't give and crawl over to the sharp tools that ruined me further. 

||

Idk I just really like writing this and I'm listening to uptown funk and despite this chapter being a short filler and a depressing one at that, I'm actually happy.

stay well. stay alive. stay breathing.