Inner Demons (Harry Styles fanfiction)

Chapter 6.

Inspiring Songs :

The 1975 - Robbers

Oasis - Stop Crying Your Heart Out

~

I'm finally in my apartment  and now my wet clothes feel so heavy.

I don't think I have the strength to take them off though.

Why?

Why did I do this again?

Why did I take another life in my hands and totally dashed it?

What's taken over me?

I don't understand how someone can change to a completely different person all at once.

 My own self scares me and I'm hardly ever scared of anything.

I immediately fel the urge to get rid of what's got in me and my first reaction is taking off my clothes.

I quickly peel the evil things off my skin like a maniac and lay on the floor half-naked.

What's been going on within the past few days is driving me absolutely insane and Im trying to get a grip but I completely fail.

I am a killer. This is what I am.

A psycho murderer who can't stop himself from killing, who doesn't have even the slightest bit of control over himself and his actions and who only has to take all the responsibility after everything's done and that fucking hurts.

I try to remember the reason why I did all of this and the dissolution of my anger that I felt at the very moment when I killed John. Or Joseph.

It doesn't work though. I can't simply justify myself like this. It's not ok to kill someone just because he said something mean or because he's a complete asshole. These are just excuses. What do I care after all? If they wanna be cunts then this is none of my business. I should just let them be with their miserable lives. Not end theirs to make mine even more miserable afterwards.

Where do I go from here? To just stare at people and if I don't like their faces just go on and kill them? That's fucking fascist and I'm far from that.

I am no angel, I'm absolutely nothing like it and I don't try to be one either.

I just hate who I've become now.

All my life I've been a waste of space. But now it's worse than that.

I'm not only a waste of space but I'm also lacking the life of other people and there's no one else to blame but me.

I should just go on and kill myself.

Suicide.

I've thought about it multiple times, especially during my teenage years.

I was so miserable, so useless.

I still am.

The fact that I got a job and that some people thought I was good enough to work with them was the only thought that gave me a bit of possitivity, that made me feel useful for once, even for something very small. But now people have started to question even that and the value of my life seems to go back to zero again.

I've always had a dilemma though. About suicide.

Should I do it in the most painful way and punish myself even more for being such a mess, such a waste of space? Should I castigate myself even more and make me suffer to death, just like everyone else did all my life?

Or should I do it in the most painless way? Should I just keep my very last moments for myself and die in peace and quiet, situations that I never had the chance to experience during my life?