Thinking is a Crime

Thinking is a Crime

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Oct 12, 2019
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Fiction
Social Themes
I have so much trouble with what people say or think anymore. Like I'm in my own world. Except I'm not the one that's weird, or in the "loony bin" as some people like to call it. I am the sane one that sees way to many people acting ridiculous.
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My life has always been terrible. I was always bullied at school. I don't know why, it just seemed that people didn't like my presence. The guys would beat me up and I'd get in trouble when I defended myself, for the teachers never saw what they did. The girls would trick me, making me think they liked me and laughing at me because of it. I was always in the principle's office for one reason or another, but I wasn't a bad student. I actually got really good grades. To make matters worse, my mother wanted nothing to do with me. She'd lock me in the basement, sometimes for days, with no food or warmth. My father would then sneak down and beat me before raping me. So, naturally, I wanted to die. But, for some reason, I can't die. No matter what I do, I can't stay dead. The thing I want more than anything is far out of my reach. Why can't I just die? Warning: mention of rape, suicide, and abuse. Also, this is a boy's love story.

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