"Straight"

the voices in my head are louder than before

"You're disgusting."

"Faggot."

"Kill yourself."

"You don't deserve life."

"No one wants you."

"Get rid of yourself."

"You're just a mistake."

"Ugly."

"Pathetic."

I jolt awake, eyes wide and wild. I can't do this. I can handle this anymore. All I hear are the voices. They're everywhere. They won't let me rest. 

I slip out of Phil's bed and head to the bathroom, turning on the sink. I splash my face with water and run my hands through my hair desperately. Why won't the voices stop? 

I can hear them right now. They keep telling me awful things. 

"P-please... stop it," I whisper as I clutch my head in my hands. I have a horrible migraine that's pounding away at the rhythm of my thoughts. 

I want to use the razor so bad, but I promised Phil last year that'd I'd never do that again, no matter what. 

"Nothing is worth hurting yourself over," he'd said. 

Instead of finding something sharp, I grab a pencil and pad of paper and begin to write. 

Am I the only one I know

Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat?

Shadows will scream that I'm alone

But I know we've made it this far, kid

— — —

I am not as fine as I seem

Pardon

Me for yelling I'm telling you 

Green

Gardens are not what's growing in my psyche 

It's a different me

A difficult beast feasting on burnt down trees

Freeze frame

Please let me paint a mental picture portrait

Something you will forget 

It's all about my forehead 

And how it is a door that holds back contents 

That make Pandora's box contents look non violent

Behind my eyelids are islands of violence 

Full of tidal wives

Suicidal crazed lions

They're trying to eat me, blood running down their chins

And I know that I could fight or I could let the lions win

I begin to assemble what weapons I can find

Cause sometimes to stay alive you gotta kill your mind

(-Migraine by Twenty Øne Piløts)

I put the pencil down, staring at the paper that I've filled up with words. My head is still pounding from my headache and it's making it hard to see straight.

And the voices are louder than ever. 

Writing usually helps me in times like this, but the fact that it's not helping now scares me. I can feel myself slowly losing control of everything and my breathing is too fast. 

I have to end this. 

I'm sorry Phil. 

I scribble out a note to the boy I love and his family, wondering if they'll ever find it. 

I need to do this. Everything inside of me is urging me to end it. The voices have consumed my mind, taking up the space where logical thinking should be. Am I really going to do this? 

You have to. 

The migraine in my head causes my vision to blur and I stumble toward the bathroom. I have no choice but to break my promise to Phil, and once again, I silently apologize as I grab the razor and press it against the heterosexual flag that is tattooed on my wrist.

That symbol is what caused this. I need to get rid of it. Tears start to flow down my cheeks as the blood seeps from my skin, covering the black and white lines of the flag. 

Cut off the damn thing. Get it off of your skin. You can't die with that symbol on your wrist.

I slice deeper into the reddening pool on my wrist, starting to feel slightly lightheaded and my vision blurring even more. I cut vertically, basically ripping out the vein and sobbing as quietly as I can. 

The pain is overwhelming. My razor is completely fucked, along with my wrist. I feel like I'm suffocating. 

What have I done?

You did what you had to do. Everyone will be better off without you.

But what about Phil? 

He'll get over it. You were just a burden to him anyway.

I guess you're right. 

Blood slides down the sides of my skin as I begin to cut the other wrist, feeling as if I could pass out at any second. 

I think of all the things people have said to me. The wretched names I've been called. How everyone at school hates me and tells me to die.

Well I'm finally giving them what they want. 

And they'll all be happy. 

Turning on the bathtub, I weakly pull myself inside and let myself bleed into the rising water, turning it a light shade of red. My bruised body and worn out clothes soon consumed by the stained liquid and I know that I will soon lose the battle of life.

"Dan? Is that you in there?"

Oh fuck no. I must've woken Phil up when I turned on the tub's faucet. Good thing I locked the door.

I close my eyes as the lightheaded feeling begins to get to me.

"I'm sorry, Phil."

My senses are dulled but I can hear yelling and banging. Flashbacks of my parents screaming at each other fill my dazed mind. They'd want this. The bloody water rises past my face and fills my mouth. 

Suddenly, my breath is gone and everything is fading to black.