Anonymous

You're gonna need a body bag.

-Kellins POV-

You know those days where you just can’t be bothered with the world? Those days where you feel like everything you do is just worthless, wasted effort being put into a useless act that will inevitably not do anything to help anyone? Yeah, those ones. This was the kind of day that I’d been having, but I guess it was quite a recurrent day for me. I mean most of my days alone were like this now, or worse. The only thing I can do is hope that my father doesn’t come home early, or come home at all. I liked the few peaceful hours I got alone, away from harm; away from the drunk mess I called my father; if you could even call him that. The hours I got alone were what I cherished the most, that I loved the most. Well, that isn’t as true as It could be. I liked to make people think that I liked being alone when in reality I’d rather be out with my friends-whoever I could call friends now. Because being alone meant that the demons residing inside the back of my head would come out to play. They fiddle around with my emotions, creating thoughts and twisted lies that would threaten to destroy me every minute of every hour. These thoughts would surely kill me one day.

I got up from my sitting position in the back corner of my room. This position was basically having my knees pulled so close to my chest it would look painful to anyone that witnessed me in it. My head buried in my knees so that my horrific face wasn’t of view to anyone; not that anyone was here. I sat in this position most of my time when I was in my room alone, when my father wasn’t home from the bar. I don’t know why I did this to myself-isolating myself from everyone just to be in my room, in the dark dusty corner bare of anything bright, alone. Always alone.

Walking over to my desk, I opened up my laptop and waited patiently for it to power up and show what I had opened last. It was a document, or a virtual diary we could call it for now. Basically I spilled out my thoughts onto an anonymous site to whoever dared read into my dark mind. Here you could find out every single little secret I kept, everything that had ever happened to me and my dreams and wishes that could never come true.

Running my hands down my face, making sure to dig my nails in a bit, I began typing out my next entry. Demons and killer thoughts. The thoughts that could basically kill me any second or make me kill myself but either way I’d consider it murder, murderous thoughts. Yeah, that sounds about right. I guess this is what my next entry is going to be about.

Murder he thought.

I’m not really that sure if I’m scared of these thoughts alone, or the power they hold with each one that comes and goes. I’m not sure if it’s because of the voice that speaks them out is my own, or because of the fact it screams at me all the time, night and day. I guess that this means I’m my own bully, my own worse nightmare-sounds about right to be honest. I’m pushing myself closer to the edge day by day and there is nothing I or anyone can do about it. I think my end date is soon and by that I mean that I know, I know that it’s soon because I can feel it in my heart, my head, my soul. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. I want to go home to my mum, to go and be at peace with her wherever heaven is. I’m not going to heaven though, am I?

I typed away furiously, hammering my fingers down into the keys as the thoughts that I oh so hated took over and I let everything out. I let it all spill into this entry that would surely shock some people-these would be the people that would try and offer “help.” Yeah? Well fuck you’re help, fuck your shitty help! You’re only saying that because you pity me or some shit like that. Well I don’t need anyone’s pity or sympathy; I’m not someone’s charity case. I’m a normal breathing, sleeping, eating, hurting, ugly, stupid, filthy, depressed, suicidal…teenager.

These are the thoughts that plague my mind, hey look; you get a first-hand experience on what it feels like to be me. I’ve no one to blame for them though, no matter how hard I look for someone to pin this on I will always come out blank, because it is my fault; I created the monster. This monster, I see him every day. I see him in the mirror, in my reflection. I can see him in the white lines running up my wrists-healed over but still there, hidden behind sleeves and bracelets. There’s the red lines too though, the ones that surround my thighs because I learnt the hard way when my dad saw my wrists. I’ve learnt to hide, to hide so much that that is all my life was now; hiding. I see it the most in the black and blue bruises though, the ones that cover most of my back and front torso. They look like tattoos to be honest, shitty tattoos given by a shitty person. I deserved them though, that thought is drilled into my mind because so many people have said it, maybe not those exact words, maybe not even spoken; they think it.

I thought becoming friends with J and his crowd would help get rid of them, help make the thoughts and my monster go away. They seemed to cool and confident that I thought it would rub off on me somehow. Oh god I have never been so wrong. If anything the thoughts increased because every goddamn day I see the people I left behind, the people I fucking left to try and cure myself of the incurable. What makes it worse is those were the people that accepted me for who I was, the people that made me feel better when I was down. I’m a fool and everyone knows it. Besides being a fool, I still have the monster to deal with, the monster that I’m still sure anyone will see if they look into my eyes long enough. Still, no one has noticed that I don’t make eye contact anymore, not one person. In a way I am beyond thankful for this because it means I don’t have to explain myself. If people saw my monster, my true self, they’d leave.

Then again, I know that everyone will leave in the end. They’ll leave me with the poisoned mind, alone with a monster.

K.

I didn’t even bother to reread the words I‘d typed, too afraid to actually know what anyone would be reading. I just clicked post and boom; it was up for all willing eyes.

Wiping at my eyes that were slowly filling with tears that hadn’t been shed for a long time, I was startled when a loud bang came from door, multiple bangs followed that one.

“Open this door right now, you useless son of a bitch!” My dad all but screamed through the door I had blocked with a plastic fold up chair. I didn’t have a lock and this chair was going to fold under the pressure soon enough.

I dread when it does.

Uh, this wasn’t planned at all. I literally started spilling my own thoughts out and I decided to turn it into an update for Kellin. I wasn’t planning on making it like this-like Kellin writing on a site that was just a random decision. Fun fact half of that is what I’ve thought at some point of another (not really fun?) I’m good now though, just thought I’d use my own old thoughts and stuff.

So yeah, hope you enjoyed this update into Kells mind and stuff, promise an actual update for continuing on the story sometimes soon since I break off for summer holidays at the end of this week.

Kat.