Wrote this forever ago, just found it again and decided to post it (warning, super depressing)

I build walls to hide myself from your world. This world we are forced to dwell in is constantly tearing me down. I can feel it ripping at my skin everyday, trying to break me; so I have to protect myself or something might come and hurt me.

Sometimes I long for company, a companion within my walls; but I know that they would just end up hurting me. Maybe I am just better off by myself and my drug. . . . Music. Music is my ultimate weapon against the world. It is the army that fights my inner and outer battles. Turn it up loud enough and you can’t think, hear, or feel. It gives me a taste of death.

That is my last resort, the self-destruct button. Sometimes I am extremely close to pressing that button. In my worst of times it just seems so reasonable to fall and die - but something stops me. It is not fear or guilt- but you. You are the only one that kept me alive for all these years. Warming your way to my heart and finding the one weakness to my walls, I let you in. You boosted my self-esteem. I didn’t feel like the horrible monster people perceived me as when you where by my side. You were the magical angel in my world of hell.

But today, when I saw you with her I collapsed. For the first time in seven years, I cried. You held her so gently and longingly that it was inevitable I was a rusty tool in your toolbox. After all, who in their right mind would chose the popper instead of the princes?

Now I am sitting in the chewed and broken bathroom stall thinking about pushing the button that can end this all. I brought a knife with me and I just want to wake up from this nightmare. I made a list of reasons to why I should keep enduring this pain, and there was only one thing. –-Maybe someone will love me- but I know this is not going to happen. After the damage you’ve done to my heart, I would just create harder and more impenetrable walls out of the wreckage.

I have lost all hope, completely giving myself up to death. I took a look at the knife and decided it was time. I said a quick prayer to nobody- My only hope left lied in the anticipation to be free. Before I knew it, my hands were stained with blood, but I couldn’t feel them. I just stared at the increasingly red circle in wonderment. I enjoyed it. I watched my last breath leave my body before the lights went out and I felt my soul strip from my former self. 

It took three days for them to find my body, nobody even cared. I was just another lost soul in this horrible world. . . . . but I am happy; for the first time I feel free. Weeks later, I watched my own funeral. I didn’t know half of the people there and nobody shed even the slightest tear, not even as I was lowered into the ground. The whole ceremony, I was swelled with dignity. I escaped your world and I have you to thank. Thank you for releasing me, what they say is wrong -–Death is freedom-

The End

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