~Always Go Hard~ A BrokeNCYDE Fanfic.

.Chapter 1.

-Life(less)-

I woke up. First thing to happen in my day, and the thing I hated most. I didn't want to wake up. I was 17 year old Keira, who was hurt, depressed... And lost. My heart was full of hatred for everyone, except a few of my favorite bands. And my favorite band, which was BrokeNCYDE. Their music was one of the few things that put a smile on my face. It was so happy, it was so easy-going, it was the only thing keeping me alive. Becoming a fan of BrokeNCYDE saved my life. Not in a sarcastic way either; it really saved my life. I realized that happiness does exsist, just not where I'm at. My parents disapprove of who I really am, my sister thinks I'm a freak, and the rest of my family doesn't care for me much. Of course, they're all a bunch of bible humpers, but that's besides the point. The point is, it was BrokeNCYDE who saved my life.

I got up hesitantly. I didn't really want anyone to know I was up, so I laid down on my bed and just stared at the wall with a blank face. I flipped on my other side and looked at my wall of BrokeNCYDE. I had old pictures from when they had first started, when Se7en's hair was black and blond, and I had new pictures that didn't include Phat J, since he quit and all. I formed an extremely small grin at the corners of my mouth when my eyes moved over to my many many many pictures of Sev. I'd been fangirling and crushing on him since I became a fan, which was years ago. Then I was 13. It was unarguably the best year of my life. I found my best friend (who has abandoned me since then, but she'll always have the biggest space in my heart), I found GOOD music, and most of all, I found myself. I realized who I was. It was beautiful, and I didn't have to pretend anymore. My family hated me, but... That's life, and shit happens. A lot of shit, to be specific.

Today was the last day of my weekend, meaning it was Sunday. I sighed. School was literally fucking Hell. In middle school, people didn't give me too much shit, except for the constant question, "Are you EMO?" I'd simply reply with a no and go on with my day. And, I had friends back then. They would laugh at me, no, with me, and they would help me when I was down. Occasionally, they'd make a remark about my choice of style, but never with anything rude. A couple times they said my stretched ears were gross, but that just made me laugh. I knew that was like a sin to society, but I liked them better then just earrings. Earrings are no fun, and they're just too... Casual. At least for my liking. In middle school, I dressed bright and colorful, I always had a twinkle in my eye and a hopeful look on my face. There was a few times when I was depressed, and I ended up self-harming, but the scars had thankfully gone away since then. Although sometimes I wished I would do it again, I restrained myself from it. It really didn't solve anything, and I didn't need people at school to comment. I guess that's always why it bugged me when people called me emo, because most of the time, I WASN'T depressed, and I DIDN'T have scars on my wrist. So what, I wore/wear my hair with no part, and it's in my eyes. I'm happy with it. That's what I never understood about bullies. If they're so happy all the time, why did they need to mess with others? I think if everybody just left each other the fuck alone, the world would be happier.

But since my bright times in middle school, its gone downhill. Most of my friends either forgot about me, or found friends that were better. I guess it hurt so bad because...when I was in 8th grade, I told myself I was worthless when I was depressed. This happening to me just made me realize I was right.

My thoughts had gotten the best of me again. I woke up at 1, and now it was 2:15. This is the life of Keira. I laid back down, for some reason I was exhausted. I fell asleep almost immediately.

~Dream~

I was walking through my high school hallway. I was stopped by the best friend I used to have, the one who I adored. We grew distant, and I tried to step up a few times, but she just kept pushing me away. Now she hung out with people more....mainstream, which was funny, because mainstream-tivity was her biggest pet peeve when we were still close.

She stopped abruptly in front of me. "Guys," she turned to her friends, "don't you think her hairstyle is a bit tacky?" they all agreed and laughed. "Seriously Keira, you're gonna live your life with no one beside you if you look like that." she pointed to my shirt I was wearing, it was my favorite BrokeNCYDE tee. Me, being the rebel I was, said, "I'd rather look like this, AND be myself and alone, rather than be fake and unhappy." I said it in a comforting, yet cool tone. "Keira, you'd be unhappy anyways. You're just a sensitive little faggot. Seriously. I can't even believe I was friends with you." her words felt like a slap to the face. "No I'm just kidding," I felt relieved, "I felt so bad for you. You were just an ugly little loner. Besides, now I know everything about you. And damn, I could write a novel on your life. I mean, no one would buy it, but Jesus Christ you fucked up so many times!" That was all I could take. I nudged past them and found my way to the bathroom. The bell rang. 'Great' I thought. 'Im late.' but at least I knew now that no one would show up in here. I looked up at myself in the mirror. 'You're disgusting' my thoughts told me. My eyes started to swell with tears. One blink was all it took until they were flowing out of my eyes. I looked up again. I shook my head a little bit to reposition my hair. I am worthless. I am ugly. I am unhappy. I can't leave though. I'm too dedicated to BrokeNCYDE. If I leave, they'll have one less supporter, but I do a large amount of promoting them. I looked in my bag where I carried my shit and for an odd reason, there was gun. I didn't own a gun. I didn't know anyone who owned a gun. I walked into a stall and pulled it out. There was a small note taped on it. Weird. I unfolded it and it read 'Just die already faggot'. I'm sorry BrokeNCYDE. I love you. I walked out and looked at my reflection again. I put the gun to my head, and pulled the trigger.

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I had this story uploaded but it needed a lot of editing. ^-^ here's le first chapter :3