This story is a short one, obviously, so I hope you enjoy it (:
I grabbed the keys off the table storming out of the house, my anger taking control of my actions. Hatred, that's what I felt. Hate for the man who calls himself my dad, hate for this life I have to live, hate for myself for being so weak, and hate for everyone who's messed up my life. Why did so many people get off free, and I have to deal with all the crap in the world?
Why did I have to be born? That was a very good question, very much in need of an answer. Why couldn't I just have ceased to exist? It would save people from so much pain. I was just a waste of space. There is no purpose for me in this life! I don't deserve to live. If I did, would I be treated like crap by my family?
But I guess I must have done something pretty screwed up in my past life or something, not that I believe in that crap, but there's no other explanation. Why else would I have the worst life in the history of horrible lives?
I looked at my scowling face in the rear view mirror of my car, and I realize that I will never be happy. No matter what happens, I'll always have the emptiness in my eyes, the hole in my heart, the pain I try to hide, and the hate that's been bottling up in me. If only I could feel loved for once in my life. Sure, I've had girlfriends in the past, ones that I've cared a lot about, but that doesn't mean that any of them loved me. I was popular in school, so they only wanted me so that they could show me off.
And although many people see popularity as something to be proud of, it's not all that everyone says it is. As a matter of fact, it's something that no matter how hard you try and get out of, you never will fully be able to. Another thing is that it's all fake. All the friends you have, they all don't really care. If you want someone to talk to, they will run in the other direction. It gives you a feeling of isolation, at least for me anyway.
I turned on the radio which was playing some random crap I don't really care about. My foot pressed on the pedal and I sped off into the night. I knew no one would come after me. No one cared. Just wait till my funeral comes around, everyone will be dancing on my grave. I bet that out of everyone there, not one of them will be mourning for my death, aside from a select few (but that's only about one or two people).
What bugged me the most was how much this all hurt me. Even though I pretended I didn't care, I really did. I put a wall between myself and the real world to shield me from the pain, but it never helped. It didn't prepare me for when all the hurt got to me.
Everyone says that God always has a purpose for each and every person. Well I wonder what my purpose was. Maybe it was to bring misery to the world? Or maybe he got lazy when he created me and didn't focus too much on that. I honesly don't know anymore. Or maybe that whole thing was a bunch of lies! That wouldn't surprise me. People have been lying to me my whole life.
My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as I continued to drive, not focusing at all on where I was heading. It seemed like my body knew more than my mind did, so I just let it do whatever it needed to do. My eyes began to blur, and I shook my head, trying to get my vision straight. "I'll make you all regret what you've done to me." I hissed out, gripping the wheel even tighter. I was shocked at how my voice came out. It was full of anger, hurt, and hate.
I looked at my surroundings, noticing that I was on the bridge. Perfect I thought to myself. This was where I would kill myself. This was where all of this madness would end. I was going to end my life today, and there was no stopping it.
I kept my foot pressed on the pedal, but took my hands off the wheel, letting the heavy wind guide my car. It pushed me around, this way and that, until finally, the car hit the railing. The railing wasn't that strong, so once the vehicle and the metal connected, my car flew right over the edge.
