Everyone That You Left Behind ➳ Petekey (COMPLETE)

22: When the world ends, will God go down with it?

This chapter contains mature themes

Mikey was dead. Mikey was dead and it was all my fault. The events stuck on repeat in my mind, causing me much reluctance to trust the accuracy of my perceptions. When someone dies, you don't feel anything like people say. It's not even like you have lost something inside. You just feel nothing. You watch helplessly as everything you once loved dies before your very eyes and there's nothing you can do about it. You feel nothing, that's the feeling that hurts the most, feeling nothing.

Before I met Mikey, my experiences of feeling emotions were very limited, they existed but the emotions I felt were very restricted. Mikey had opened me up to new emotions I had never understood before and I embraced them, as the more I became emotionally in touch with myself the more alive I felt. That meant that with Mikey gone, I had lost all ability to feel. I was devoid of the emotions that were once so extraordinary to me. I had forgotten how to love because the only person I had ever loved was dead. Mikey had left me behind on this lame excuse for a planet. It doesn't matter who you left behind, it matters where you are going to go, and I sure as help was lost.

My parents had never helped me, they had never guided me in this war torn world. They had never shown me what love was because they had never felt it for each other. They were both stuck up assholes who cared more about themselves than each other and just wanted to prove themselves better than everyone by comparison. Of course, their marriage had ended in divorce and they had blamed that on me. Their marriage was destined for disaster from the start but they only needed one word to justify their split... "Gay". That simple word had been enough for them to argue more than usual and result in multiple disagreements because neither of them wanted to be the one to have custody of me when they got divorced. I was an unwanted child, I may as well have been an orphan.

A kid who was neglected by their parents was never gonna turn out okay. I developed unwanted traits from my parents: not wanting to get close to others, sticking to me myself and I, becoming selfish and self absorbed and taking pleasure in seeing others suffer. But that didn't mean that things didn't affect me, that didn't mean that words didn't hurt me. Most of the time I was higher than a kite on weed, it made everything seem a bit more quiet, drowning out the sounds of insults and criticism from my parents. The homophobia was painful though, I had no one to help me cope, no one to help me deal with the pain. That was how I started turning to different types of pain to help cope, which didn't end well...

Cuts. I know how to deal with them. They took my mind of the emotional pain and hate I felt towards myself and the world and replaced it with more physical pain. Physical was always much easier for me to handle than psychological pain. I'd always been discrete, cleaning up the wounds with disinfectant and bandages, that why it was so easy for me to help Mikey when he had cut his hand on the coffee mug shards. But that didn't mean I hadn't made mistakes before, I'd always tried to be careful but sometimes I had taken it to far, wanting more pain, needing more pain to dull the pain in my mind.

My mother had found her son in a pool of his own blood one morning that resulted in an annoyingly expensive hospital bill which angered my parents more than it worried them. They felt little sympathy for me and all I felt was hate for them. But whilst I was recovering in hospital with 18 stitches on wrists, I under went a psychological evaluation. It was then my parents finally realised that they had seriously fucked up at being so called parents, but it was too little too late.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and antisocial personality disorder. I was prescribed multiple medications to help but nothing would ever make me better, it's not something that could just be cured despite what my parents thought. My parents thought that being gay and having multiple mental illnesses could just go away with the prescription of drugs, no wonder I turned out so fucked up.