Broken Crayons

Do I belong?

Figuring out a place in the world is something some people spend their entire life doing. But can an orange slice fit in to an apple. Nah I dont think so. But everyone wants to feel like they can call someone, something or somewhere home.

He lay there flooded for the one millionth time in his own tears. Wondering when his longing heart would stop aching for love, someone to call his own. To not hear his own heartbeat scaring him to belong somewhere.

   "Its always the same fights, tears, cuts, hurt, pain and emptiness," he whispered to himself.
 

The only thing not causing the noise to spread elsewhere was his pillow. Hidden in a pitch black room with stinging arms and dripping red metallic liquid.
   
  Razors to arm
  Pills to mouth
  Mind drowned up north
  While my blood drips south

He sat there reciting his little poem to console himself, music played softly to the lyrics of Jar of Hearts.

"Christina Perri haha who do you think you are..."  he sang to the rather depressing tune of the music he faces his solitude with. 

Chance 12 years old before final exams

"Your mom is so fat..." Tyreek chances class mate was cut off abruptly by a punch the jaw.

Chance had a lot of trouble controlling his anger and hated when mention of his mother was made at all no matter who said it this time the giant from his sixth grade decided to pick on him.

The entire block had seen what had happened and were silent until a boy broke out "Fight Fight," and the entire block started repeating the line.

Chance being reckless and losing his temper lashed out walking away when he was grabbed by the scruf of his collar. He felt limp as his stomach was greeted with a solid blow from the older boy. Even though in pain Chance rose up his eyes flashed red.

He rammed the larger boy with his small frame before taking his wooden class project and smacking it over his head. This put everybody in shock as chance walked away sobbing even though he was the winner of this fight.

Chance's POV

"I hate fighting,"  I thought to myself.

 "Everyone keeps bullying me, I'm never OK but they just add to it, " I mumble to myself.

"Chance?" I heard a familiar voice they were the only ones I called friends I had felt lonely and luckily I found a group just as ostracized as myself.

"Hey Tahj," I weakly called to the one who called me by name. 

He walked and sat dangerously close to the "sociopath" as they called me. Their nicknames for me would range on my daily activities.

When I cried it was "Sissy", when I was upset and rampaging "sociopath" did the trick.But of all the names I hated most was being called "Fag". 

" Hey bro I know I don't know whats up, But you can talk to me you know," he said to me in an encouraging voice. 

Of all the so called friends I have he was the one I had been most attached to he was always there, he was always there taking the jeer and mocking with me.

"Hey You know what they say about me?" he asked.

I shook my head wary to speak after screaming my pain out which probably gave my location away to him. 

"They say i'm rich, stuck up and don't like to share am I ever like that to you?"He asked . 

Like before I shook my head.