Another Piece of Me {DISCONTINUED}

Kalvin and a piece of me

A/N

Hey guys! I'm baaack! (sorry I hate myself already XD) Anyways, heads up, there will not be a Dean's POV this part, but there will be a whole part in his POV next, so yeah. Look forward to that I guess. This part is mostly character development and answers. That's it really. I suck at these author's notes.

Byeeeeeeeeeee

-darthbacongirl

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When the poster's occupants showed up again, I met the eyes of twenty one pilots, the only band that has kept me somewhat stable. Except now. I wish they were here to hug me.

I could use a hug.

I stop myself from continuing to cry and walk to the only lonely room in the house, which just happened to be Kalvin's. I walk through our tiny home and look at the walls full of pictures of people who were supposedly complete.

Knowing what I do now, I don't ever believe we were "complete."

I reach Kalvin's room and take a deep breath in. I hadn't done this in what feels like a lifetime. I open the door with a long, loud creak. Surprisingly, there were no unexpected visitors, which made me more sad that this room was untouched. It felt more real, where it felt like life was tricking me into thinking that things were normal again. I knew things weren't, but it was highly tempting to think about accepting the offer, which I couldn't but really needed to accept. I shake off my thoughts and focus. I walk into the room, taking small steps, centimeter by centimeter. I wasn't scared, however. I was searching for the book. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the book sitting on the wooden toy chest next to a slightly dusty teddy bear and a stack of other books that look more rejected than Adam asking Allison out. I laugh silently at the memory of the situation. I reach for the book and sit down in the small armchair that was sitting in the corner of the room facing the door. I look at the title, which had been scrawled onto the notebook in messy handwriting that it seemed only I knew how to read. "Pieces of Me by Kalvin Ramson."  I slowly peel back the cover and skim the writings, looking for the last thing written, which I wrote, hoping maybe Kalvin looked down and saw that I wanted him to learn about me through the way I would learn about him.

 "I don't even know myself. 

Finding yourself is hard. Extremely hard. Especially when you have 14 friends that are cheerleaders-Alissa, Ashley, Brittany, Leah, Liza, Jessica, Monica, Kate, Adriana, Peyton, Blake, Maddie, Abby, and Allison. 

Sometimes I just wanna run away from them and never go back. They drive me up the wall. They don't understand my personality, so I mask it with a mirror image of what they do. Everything. I'm like the world's best mime to ever exist. Sometimes I hate to, but I always remember all the annoying and painful things that happened to me that revolved around them, like being pushed off the top bleachers at a football game, in front of everyone, helpless, or screaming that I never post nudes like they do so that makes me dishonorable to them, or that "they give so much up to be friends with me." Bite me bitches, bite me.

Oh wait, you did.

God that bothers me.

But let's start at the beginning.

I was born on December 12th, 2000. I was born in the dead of a really snowy winter up here in Washington. My-brother was born on May 23rd, 2006. Yes, there was an age gap between us of six years. I loved it. This is where it gets hard to talk about my life. My brother died. He died at the age of 8 in 2014. He died through a mistake that was originally caused by a rare disease, Lyme Disease. It caused havoc on his poor body every waking hour. It's a miracle he was happy and could sleep at night. One day, the doctors had to put antibiotics in his heart in an attempt to stop the disease.

The antibiotics killed him.

I've never stopped using that record player he invented for me ever since.

I realized after my brother's death that my friends were shitty. I realized that sometimes masks can be useful, metaphorical ones. Masks are what get me through every day without fail. My "friends" didn't mourn. They laughed. They said it was better. They said it made me a better person, to have seen the true life I should live. Bitches.

I cried for days. I cried so much I'd hyperventilate enough to choke on air. I cut myself. 

Once. I couldn't do it again. It felt like Kalvin was telling me to stop.

So I did.

My first existential crisis was four months after my brother's death. It killed my mind. I thought about time, age, the universe. It all made my head spin. It was like someone put a knife through my brain and plunged it from my head into my chest to my heart, to my lungs.

I still have night terrors where I can't breathe. Sometimes I swear my heart stops and time itself freezes and the universe laughs at me like the monster in my brother's closet.

Sometimes I cry for a full day because of loss, because of my crises, because of my hidden identity.

Sometimes I cry because I don't know what I want and why I can't figure it out.

Maybe I'll never find myself.



No one is yet to realize my silent cry for help. I haven't even realized how to become the real me, or how to overcome the fourteen satans. Actually, they make Satan look like a hero. No one had realized I don't know how to cope with the way my life is.

I think about what I wish I could be. Open about myself, open about my favorite things, open about how much I hate people at my school, specifically fourteen of them. I want to be openly happy again. I want to be open to the world, scream: I love nerdy things! I obsessively quote fictional characters! I listen to "emo" bands! I like watching movies and studying them! I hate girly things! I hate my friends! I hate expensive brands that I'm forced to wear to hide my identity!

I hate life!

But how can I accomplish that when I feel like my thoughts are a ruthless tornado, violently picking up houses and animals, maybe even dead bodies?

Maybe that's where my true self went."  

I love you Kalvin. Flower's looking up at you, missing you, trying to be happy. Realizing she'll never see you live your life again. Flower's Hoping you're okay.

Because she isn't.

I close the notebook. And look up at the ceiling whispering: "Flower loves you Kalvin."

I cry again in the room of my dead little brother.