5th Period [C]

iv

3.18.18

where the fuck does time go??

i'm a criminal.
gerard is too. he's my best friend, too.

i never had a friend.
i like this faggot.
unfortunately.

but it isn't just that.

we have a thing?? like one time we were laying in the floor of fuck knows which hotel, drunk off our asses, and he admitted he had a crush on me since middle school

what the fuck??

and then i fucking kissed him??

but i can't be attached to him. i CANNOT.

i have to kill him.
nothing was meant to go this far. i'm not even supposed to be alive.

i shouldn't have kissed him.
and i most definitely should not have fucked him

but who cares right? this was all a mistake. living this long was a mistake.

i was a mistake.

i finally get why my father had to drill it into my head when i was twelve years old and crying to myself wondering what i did wrong.

i was a mistake. i'm not supposed to be alive. not now, not ever. but i can fix this mistake.

gerard knows i'm psychotic. he knows everything was a mistake. and i've changed him; he's not just the artsy redheaded faggot anymore.

there's a side of him i've never seen.

he also dyed his hair once we started running. black. he cut it short and, might i say, i think he looks even better than before. more mature, less faggot-y. but that's okay, either way...

me and him were the two biggest faggots in school.

but when his appearance changed it's like his personality switched with it. he kills with ease. i know because we've shot up a few gas stations (i didn't want to but i ran out of money). he didn't even hesitate to blow the cashier's brains against the ceiling.

this personality shift is hot as fuck, honest.

i don't want to kill him.

if i could have a fairytale ending with him, in a sense- where we both magically fall off the missing/wanted lists and just get to fuck and figure everything out- that'd be ideal.

but life doesn't work out that way.

my life was a mistake.

his was too. he had a future. he was gonna go to college- be an animator or some shit, i don't remember. he wanted to get married and have a family.

i ruined it. i turned it into a mistake.

i know because even though he puts on the tough guy façade, i still noticed the red streaks on his arms, on his thighs, and his sides.

my fault.

every fresh wound on his pale skin, is because i dragged him down with me when i didn't just shoot him in the fucking face in that janitor's closet.

sometimes i have nightmares about it.

but i don't shoot him. everytime, i'm strangling him.
i'm watching his face turn a completely different color, feeling his nails dig into my forearms, hearing him try to gasp for breath, seeing tears falling from his eyes.

watching. while the life fades out of him. and i don't stop.

i know i have to kill him. and i have to kill myself.

but i only have one bullet left.

and i love him.