Dark Stories

Pcychopath

Is this how you are? are you a pcychopath? or... are you supposed to be normal? You shouldn't even try to say you're normal. Because you're not even close to it... You're crazy... Or insane, you're everything in the psychopathic dictionary... "These are all the things I would hear about me from the doctors and therapists I've been to... Yes there's been more than one, so maybe I am crazy or insane, maybe even everything in the psychopath dictionary... But I will never admit that, to anyone... They all think I'm perfectly fine and dandy... So I say fuck em, let them think all that... Bullshit, it doesn't change anything in my life whether I'm normal or not I just... Don't care. Is it "crazy" that, every time I see a bottle of pills I wanna grab it and take the whole thing in hopes that it ends the suffering... Is it "insane" that whenever I see a knife I want to feel the sharp, cold metal

cut across my skin and feel the warmth of the blood escaping the wound I just made... Is it "psychotic" that every moment I wake up or open my eyes I regret it or hope that this is my last time here on this planet. Why do I always wonder "why me?" I'm sick of that question in my mind 24/7. I'm sick of feeling all this hate and pain. I'm sick and so tired of being called a psychopath by everyone I tell this too... It's like having feeling is always a sickness... And some other reason why I should be in an  sanitarium I don't belong with them, those people. They're people worse than me out there and I belong in a nut house... I can't help how I feel or what I say to people about my feeling, I let my emotions take me... I'm being honest with myself. How I feel is me, what I feel is

My choice... I choose to feel this way I deride to ignore my true feelings... I speak my heart and then I get labeled crazy, insane or psychotic... I'm just me... Depressed with life... Tired of breathing sick of pain and bleeding... Bored with hate towards everything. Why would anyone want to stick around this place... This isn't life it's.... Hell in a bottle of spit they call their world. This place is not home to me I don't think it ever will be... I don't want it to be... I can't stand this place... This pit in hell... Every breath I take hurts... Every heart beat kills me slowly... I want the courage to grab that and drag it up to feel nothing anymore... Just to stop this horrid life, stop the pain, stop the questions, the diagnosing... I'm nothing special, I'm... Nothing at all I don't want to be a science project to the doctors out there

Anymore... I don't want to be the frog or bunny, or even the alien of the month for Area 51.... I just don't want... To be anything to anyone... Not gods child, not someone's B.F.F. Or grandchild or daughter... Just nothing at all. I'm done with the so called "specialist" telling me me I need to take these and eat this way... Or my so called parents saying I have to do this, watch this, or listen to this... I'm just tired of nothing working, everything getting worse with every step I take, every breath I take... Every waking moment being my hell... Every moment wishing this is my last... Always wondering "why me?". Being called by my last name so much I forget my first... Having to say my birthday so much, it's the only numbers I remember, answer those... Stupid questions that help them... How do they... How does it help to ask what's going on today... Or

How are you feeling... Or even what would you do in this situation or from 1-10 which are you... How does any of that fucking help... How? I'm fucking falling apart... Every moment I'm alive I pray for it to be my last... I want the courage to go up with this metal... I want this sleep to be my last... I want to lay down on a highway during rush hour... I want to go for a swim and hope I get pulled under and only my lifeless shell comes up. Do you think I like these feelings... These wants, this pain... Well do you? If you said no... You'd be wrong because even if I didn't want to feel like this, and it could be taken away or "fixed" I would still end up like this, nothing can change that. You can't change your destiny, your fate, what's in your past, present, and future is here to stay. I can't pretend it's gone or that I'm cured for everyone's sake it doesn't work, I'm over powered with this... Pain... The reminder that it's

Still there... Always apart of me, keeping me as its permanent home. One time at school, I got a paper that asked me "what do you want to be when you're older?"  You know what answered to that? I said, "what I want to be when I'm older is dead ,by the end of this year I don't want to age any longer... Passed this year is too long to be here." A week later was my first doctors trip, the day after that was my first attempt... I've tried three times this week, I have tried fifteen times in all in just three weeks. I don't care if it's not my time, I'll make it my time... I can't be here anymore too much pain and torture on a daily basis, it hurts too much... To breath, to eat, to blink, to walk, to do anything. A regular activity is a struggle that pains me to the depth of my being. Why should I go on anyways? There's nothing special for me here... Nothing at all, I am nothing at all... Why am I anything special... Why is anyone anything special at all...

Is it something they say or do or even think? Maybe they were just born that way... Sometimes I wish I was, but then I don't... Cause' I don't need to be special. Some people have that want, that... That need to be wanted, that need to just be noticed and special to everyone. I guess I just didn't get the memo about being special... There honestly would be no point to tell me anything about it now, I would not wanna be here anymore and a blade would still be my best friend. I'm alone and dreaded by my surroundings I hate the thoughts of them, I don't care if I return here another day... Anything is better than being strapped to a table because of my actions before. Anything is better than being labeled crazy or psychotic... What's the point of these labels anyways, they don't change anything at all... They don't make me or anyone feel any better, can you honestly say that anything a doctor labels you has made you feel better about it?  No, didn't think so. I already

Knew I was psychotic why I was five years old, one to many dolls decapitated I guess... I didn't see the point in them having a head, it's not like their using them, they are lifeless objects... They don't see, they don't feel and do not breath... So yeah I figured they didn't need a head. Being called abnormal, not average, or psycho you'd think I'd be used to it... But I'm not, every name they call me shatters me more inside more than they think. I don't even think that they do think before they those... Those hurtful names to me, I have always been this way. Sometimes I feel that they want to hurt me with those names they call me so often, they want to see my tears fall... See the pain in my as they smile in amusement of my frown. Why, why must it always be me whose the punch line to all your jokes?

Why must it be me whose the punching bag when someone's angry? Just... Why? What did I do to deserve such torture... Such pain, such... Such... I don't know anymore... No words could describe it, no word I could think of anyways. I wish harm on the ones who put me through this, I hope and pray that the next morning they will know what real pain is... I wish that in the morning I'll hear of a hanging on the news and it will be their lifeless body dangling there... Just so i won't have to see that ugly smug smile on their face ever again. Sometimes I wish there was someone like me out there, just so I wasn't so alone... The doctors say they're others out there like me... I just can't see them  I guess 'cause their not so open with

This thing I guess. The doctor also says that they're right in front of me... Hiding in plain sight not wanting to be found. I don't blame them for not wanting to be a science project... The only reason I'm here is because my father caught me trying to kill myself for the third time and now here I am getting a CAT scan on my brain I don't see why it's my heart that hurts, nothing in my brain. All they do is so... Pointless they can't solve something they don't understand... None of them understand this.... Sickness... This disease... This disorder. How can they solve anything wrong with me? I am an unsolvable mystery to these people. Their own personal science project... Why must I be the mystery no one wants but doctors... I get home, go to my room... Grab the shard, make the vertical line and die, the mystery psychopath of the world.

The End