Poisoned mind

Chapter one

I don't know why I put up with this.
Nobody else has to live with this type of monster. Nobody else has to hide.
Before I even open the door I can feel his looming presence, waiting for the trap to open, for me to fall into my subconscious thought once again.
Some people call it self destruct.
I call it dreaming.
Dreaming of a life we can't have. We all decorate our past to make it seem as we live in fairytales frankly because our lives are full of crap.
But how do we explain it? There is no answer.
I can't explain the oblivion of emotions, the black hole that begs me to join the dark side, the silver blades releasing my inner demons and helping me clear my mind of the dark and unwanted thoughts.
I'm not suicidal but if someone held a gun to my head is laugh at them, or if a car came at me I would stand still.
The pain can't be worse than your words.
Your words cut deeper than knives.

People always say "Oh Nick, what could possibly be so bad that you have to do that?"
"You can get any girl you want but no girl is gonna want to see that it's not aesthetically appealing" is anyone? Deep down? Is it all about the cover, the mask we sew on? The smiles we stitch with delicate precision. The tears we store.
"Your like can't be that bad"
"No need to be so depressing"
Well is there?
But is there any need to question what goes on in a corrupted mind?
I'll never know.
I fill my constricted lungs with air poisoned by the ignorance of today's society, push the handle, and step into the lions den like a prey about to be slaughtered.