I Don't Even Know ❇ malum au

7

I just wanna touch ^Gerard's^ face...
Please don't tell me that I'm the only one... :-)

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

I'm sorry, the person you have dialed is not available.  If you would like, please leave a message after the tone - or press one or the pound key for further options.

Beep

"Hey, Ashy," I let out a defeated sigh.  "This is only like the third time that I've called, ya know - but I guess you must be busy.  I-I think I-I need... Help.  Like real help, bro.  Please."

•••

That was all that it really took for me.  I was always a bit over the edge, but I figured that maybe all it took was for someone to just simply tap me; and I'd fall.

Or in this case, all it took was for someone to not pick up the phone.

That's exactly how I found myself panicking.  I was darting to where I had last had the aspirin, happily swallowing another handful of the tablets.

This time, I almost choked.

Yet, I got the medication into my system; I was already feeling just as good as new.  Though, I had hated what I'd done.  I was disappointed in myself.

I knew that even though it was only the second time I'd given into the temptation of hate, it needed to be my last time of succumbing to the suicidal actions.  Even though just a few simple little pills aren't harmful - they can become much worse over time.

And in having a special insight into my trusted friend's past, I didn't want to suffer the same miseries as the shaggy haired hippie.  I couldn't do that to him.

I couldn't do that to myself.

If there were ever anything I learned, it was that you have to build the strength to be rid of the thing that encourages temptation.

So, I dumped the whole bottle of aspirin down the garbage disposal.

•••

"You're so stupid!"  I cried out, referring to myself, as I grabbed ahold of the coffee table and flung it across the fancy, front room.  It didn't go nearly as far as I had wanted it to, but it still moved.

"I-I can't do this a-anymore!"

I walked over and swiftly kicked the displaced piece of furniture.  And in doing this, a pain surged up from my toes and on to the bones of my weak shin.

I didn't ever really understand why the hell I would be in so much pain from so little infliction.

"In pain already, Mikey?"  My voice echoed through the home, along with the thuds of my leg repeatedly connecting with the table.

The table was a symbol of what I wanted to let go.

"Motherfucking fucker!  You ruin every single damned thing you touch!"  At that point, it wasn't only the table that I was assaulting.  It was anything that I could reach.

It wasn't like I really cared what my father saw or thought.  Hell, I was damn sure that he wasn't going to be back anytime soon.  Something deep down just gave me the sense of knowing, or at least believing, that no one clearly gave a fuck.

I was a piece of shit.  So if I was going to be forced to live on life as being a piece of shit, I was going to make everything around me into a piece of shit as well.