I need help. Every second I slip deeper and deeper into my corupted mind.
"Mr. Woolf would you like to share your thoughts with the rest of the class?"
This fucking bitch.
"No sir"
Leave me the fuck alone before I blow this school up.
"I insist, please go up to the front and enlighten us with what you were pondering so deeply about"
He really is pushing it
"Well if you really wanna know, cunt, I was thinking about how much I want to kill myself, satisfied"
I watch as his eyes widen as he processes my words through his small mind. I hear some of the snickers of my uneducated classmates and some look like they have seen a ghost.
I really don't need this petty shit. I get up and leave.
The only thing I'm good at doing. Leaving.
I walk to the back of the school and pull out a cigarette.
Inhail, exhail, repeat. Breath in, breath out. I stare into space, feeling the cold breeze sway my hair back and forth and tickle the hairs on my arms and neck.
My mind thinks back to the dream I had. I seemed so, so evil, and I don't even care. I'm not disgusted with myself.
I take the cigarette out of my mouth and observe it. It's killing me. I can feel the smoke in my lungs and covering ever part of it. The cough is already starting to get to me and I'm only 18. I press the butt of the cigarette to my arm and repeat this process over and over again.
I deserve this. This isn't self harm. Is it? I'm too pathetic to care. I press on the welts I made in my skin. To remind me of how much of a fuck up I am.
This pain is what I need. The only thing I need.
I think back to Grace. My one and only. The one and only . I don't even understand how I'm still on the streets, walking freely.
I think I should be dead. Right next to my little Grace. My one and only
