Euthanasia (Kellic)

22: The Emptiness

Cause I've Been Trying Way Too Long To Try And Be The Perfect Song When Our Hearts Are Heavy Burdens We Shouldn't Have To Bear Alone

It feels empty. My heart feels like it's not there anymore, leaving an empty hollow hole in my chest and part of me just thinks that's better than feeling things at all, because my head gets messed up, leaving my heart lost, and the thing is... I'm lost already and I don't need these feelings any more - I don't need it at all.

I feel guilty for the fact that there was even an eleventh at all, let alone the fact that I am a victim to addiction, turning the eleven into twelve, and then thirteen, then fourteen, and things just got a little blurry after the fifteenth. Mike would reckon blood loss, but I would reckon guilt and heartache.

I've never really felt this kind of guilty before but this is all I ever want to feel of it, now I'm sure. I want to rip my veins out and any amount of slashes against my steadily growing pale skin can never be enough. I just want to die; right in this moment, right now - I just want to throw my heart away, bleed myself dry and jump from the tallest building I can find, and give myself that feeling of flying and weightlessness to match that sickening butterfly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I want to die, and I don't want to leave behind a trace, because Vic's everything that matters and somehow I know I've mistrusted him and managed to ruin it all again, because this just hurts too much. I'm pathetic, and I know it. He doesn't deserve me - the world doesn't deserve me. I'm just a lost heart in a lonely mind in a world that isn't worth my time.

Vic is wasting his time on a hopeless cause like me and I want to fix that for him. I need to fix that for him - I feel like it's required. And I'm going to fill out his demand because I can't count the mess I've made by now, and here it all goes.

I wonder if I could really bleed myself dry.

It sounds like a challenge.

It feels like a challenge.

I'm certain it's a challenge I can complete.

It's a challenge I need.

I don't know how many I've made so far, but I know it's far too many for this to end with me in any 'mentally stable' condition, but that is of course only a problem when doctors are involved and within the privacy of my own bedroom and not a psych ward, my mental stability is the least of my problems.

Mental stability was never even on my mind until Vic pushed it there; because I just didn't care what people thought - people were, and in fact still are, rather irrelevant in my opinion. Vic Fuentes has somehow managed to make himself the exception, and I don't like that - I don't like it at all.

I make red until the whole word is red and I can barely breathe - I like things better this way, and then when I'm certain I've really made a mess, I gather some clothes, my phone, and all the change I have into my bag, pull on an oversized dark hoodie leaving my face away from view and I leave.

I do of course bring a blade; the sharp metal tucked up neatly in my palm; close to me. Where I need it. I need my friends the most now, because I'm most definitely all alone now - not even Vic can save me, despite what he wants to think up in that little head of his - that shit just isn't going to happen.

I leave, because there's nothing else to do. There's nothing else to say and there's nothing left of my life apart from the sting of metal and the longing addiction for red against the hatred of white skin.

I don't want to be in reality anymore - I don't want to have the opportunity to hurt people and fuck things up further - my heart hurts too much right now. I can't deal with people. I can't deal with the world. I can't deal with life anymore and I know that now - I know it all too well; I'm just not sure how to deal with it.