Rise (Colton Dixon)

Chapter 6

Alexis

I feel like killing myself.

What the heck is wrong with me? It's just a freaking song. Come to your stupid senses! He's just some Christian freak of an artist and it's just a song that he wrote for his fans. I am seriously just such an idiot.

Self-indulgent,

Death by pride.

That sounds like my mother, with boyfriend after boyfriend, bottle after bottle, yet refusing to admit that she even has issues. She tells my I have no room to talk, because I'm even more messed up than her. I don't deny that, and that's where we're different. I know I'm a loser. She refuses to admit that she is too.

Forgetting all

That I've been given.

I mean, some people actually think of their children as gifts, but she certainly doesn't see it that way. She sees my as a burden and worse. She's told me enough times.

But still you've never left my side.

I would hope that anyone would leave her side by now. But I guess my ***** father came back to her. But then again, he's the druggy, jail-bird, so he doesn't have much room to talk.

And as for me, I've got no one on my side.

Brought back to life,

You healed the broken.

If someone brought me back to life after I was lucky enough to die, I would freaking murder them.

With arms wide open.

These people really do live in fantasy worlds. It must be nice to be stupid enough to actually believe all this junk.

And yet, there's still tears pushing at the back of my eyes. You know what? This sucks. And it isn't going to happen.

I turn abruptly, and push my way through the crowd and to the lobby outside. A dude at one of the merch tables gives me a strange look, but I ignore him, and I feel his eyes leave me as I head straight for the bathroom.

As soon as the door closes behind me, I feel tears begin to course down my cheeks.

What the **** is ****** wrong with me?

I rush to one of the stalls, even though I'm obviously the only one in here, and lock it behind me. And I'm on the floor again, sobbing into my hands.

I hate myself.

My hand slides to my pocket and pulls out my blade of it's own accord. I don't take time to think before I have it in my arm.

I drive it deep, even deeper than usual, before dragging.

I inhale sharply at the intense pain, but it's just the distraction I need. I stop crying.