The crinkled paper sitting on my nightstand has weathered somewhat, the edges are beginning to curl and yellow and the words are slowly fading. I've left it on my desk everyday I've gone to school, but my parents haven't noticed, nor would they care if they ever found it. I'm somewhat fond of the note, despite its subject matter, which is besides the point. I saunter out into the living room, wondering what I would argue about with my parents this morning.
"Why are you still here? And not even dressed? You're gonna be late!"
We have the same argument every morning, but I suppose this morning is no different.
"Mom, I haven't been late once this year, if you'd just let me get ready, then we wouldn't have to have this same conversation every single morning"
Her face turns harsh, as if I had just come out as a satan worshiper.
"Talk to me like that again and you're grounded"
"Oh no, I can't leave the house to hang out with all the friends I don't have or make out with the girlfriend I'll never get. What horror."
Wow, that came off more sarcastic than I intended. She just storms out of the room with a huff.
"You know how she gets when you do this, why can't you just be a good son for one day?" My dad mutters.
Well that was a little mean, but it's nothing compared to the emotional torture I go through everyday at school, so what's the harm?
I throw some clothes on and brush my teeth in a matter of minutes then grab my lunch and quickly scurry out the door. I hate being at my house, but I also hate school, so my life is basically hell no matter where I'm at. I rip open the car door and plop down in the seat, throwing my stuff in the back. My ride to school was the best part of my day, seeing as I was between my rock and hard place. Well not so much in between as on the way to one and then being slammed back into the other, but you get the gist.
My favorite song came on the radio. I turn it up as loud as it'll go to drown out my thoughts, but they still occasionally overpower the noise. I dreamt of the day when I would be out of the house, living on my own with my hot girlfriend and all my friends. That'll be the life.
The car came to a shuddering stop as I slam into a tree at full force. I feel the car lurching forward, but all I can think about is the note. My parents are going to find it and read it, seeing as how I'm not going to survive this accident. Unless they just throw it away, in which case they'll never know how long I've wanted to feel this sweet release of death. I feel the steering wheel crush a few of my ribs and the broken windshield cutting my arms and my face; my airbag still hasn't deployed. In these few seconds, I'm accomplishing more than I have in the past 4 years. I'm finally going to get out. I finally get to die.
