Clipped Wings - A Story Of Today's Society

Entry One

7/31/2016
2:41 a.m.
Song: Heartbreak Story - The Wanted

I stare up at the ceiling.
A sickeningly familiar feeling in my stomach.
My stomach forms knots, twisting and turning in ways that makes me feel wretched.
I wrote a message on my profile, asking for help.
I feel like throwing up.

Someone save me.

What would be the point in saving you?

You're so far gone, there would be no effects from your death.

Please...shut up. Please. You're not in charge of me.

You're just an uninvited voice in my head.

Leave me alone.

Ha.

Don't try and argue.

You know I'm right.

No one loves you.

You're all alone.

Right now...it's just you...

His body takes shape in front of my eyes, and I feel even worse.

And me, darling.

I recall his every feature, ranging from his tall, lanky frame, to his raven black hair, to his snow pale skin, to his menacing, violent dark eyes.

I feel the warm, salty tears trickle down my cheeks.

N-Not you.

It's me.

Before I know it, the tears are falling faster and faster and faster. I thought I was getting better. I thought I'd be okay. I never wanted to end up like this.

I curl into a ball, wishing someone, anyone, was here with me now. I blast music in my ears, but to no avail. I still hear him.

Come on.

You know I'm right.

I just sob into my hands, my hair acting as a curtain around my face.

Pounding against my bedroom wall.

"SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP."

I cower at the roaring voice. I'm terrified.

"Someone help me." I collapse onto the floor, holding my knees to my chest and crying uncontrollably.

I grab a pillow, one of the pillows I had so giddily bought, wanting to add it to my assortment of positive throw pillows, and I scream into it. I scream until my mouth is dry.

Go ahead.

Cry.
Whine.
Scream.
Do whatever you think it takes to make you feel better.
But no matter what, you know what you really want to do.

I stare up at him.

Go!
Get away!
Get the fuck out of my life, you bitter asshole!

He laughs.

Call me what you want, faggot.
You know, with all of your heart, that I'm right.
I feel...utterly defeated.
He's right.
I'm wrong.
There's only one way out of this.

What would your family think?! Your best friend?! Your girlfriend?!

They're all just faking it.

They don't care.

I get up, and clumsily stumble to the bathroom.

God, you're such a ditz.
Can't you do anything right?

SHE CAN.

Like what?

....
No response.

I push the door open, locking it behind me.

I pull my razor blades out from the box I hid in the back of the drawer.

Do it.

Remember when we were in school, and you were stupid enough to wear a short sleeved shirt and shorts, and those kids saw you?

What did they say?

What did they say to you?

Wasn't it
"Across the street for attention, down the road for results?"

You should try to not get attention for once.

Just kill yourself and get it over with.

I take a blade, silently sobbing my sorrows, dragging the blade across my skin.

Every time I think I'm getting better, I just get dragged back into this Hell.

I hate it.

I want out.

Get me out of here.

The thoughts go on and on.

Until they stop.

And I pass out.

I'm so sick of this world.

Music still rings in my ears, on just about any other day, music could usually always bring me smiling until my cheeks hurt.
But that's not happening right now.
What's happening right now is that I'm an alone, broken, crumpled mess.
And death is the only thing I want right now.

Goodbye.

And to everyone, including those very special ones, you know who you are...
I love you.
Stay beautiful
Stay amazing
Stay strong
Stay you
Stay alive.

Yours truly,
Madisyn