Prologue
I'm not exactly sure why you care to read this. I'm also unsure as to why you've asked me to write about, "How it first started" because it hasn't even begun. I'm not a crazy or a loon. I'm sure that you'll end up throwing this out just like the rest of these. I feel kind of nice and generous today, so I'll give you what you want. It "started" when my parents - you know those things every loon blames – divorced at the age of nine. I began wanting things that, in most cases, terrified others. I wanted tattoos in the strangest of places (like my face), grew my hair long, spiked it and dyed it often, and I picked up smoking when I was barely in the seventh grade. I switched the letters in my name and quickly went from being a charming cookie cutter boy named Alex, to a dark and strange little boy named Axel. I didn't see a big deal with it. I thought a new me deserved a new name. Anyway, after my 'rents separated I moved around a lot. I didn't get to stick in one school for a long time, so I never had any friends really.
It wasn't until I got into some dumb high school full of, what we would call, special kids, that I felt I didn't need real friends. I had booze and cigarettes as my friends. I think there were a few lovers before you shipped me off to this loony bin, I don't remember too much. I'm kind of a dumbass. I digress, so there were a few lovers I'm sure. I remember this kid, he was a cutie, not very tall, and I basically towered over him. He was a real softy; I can't remember exactly what he did to make me like him. It was probably just the innocence that appealed. Anyway, I ended up at this kid's house a lot just for some quickies and man did he start to get jealous when he realized he wasn't my only one. I've never cared if I broke someone's heart. This kid though, it was like I'd ran a marathon. His deep sea blue eyes just forever haunted me. Maybe that's when it really started. The cutting I mean. I know you know about that stuff so why do I have to go into detail about that?
So that's my story. I doubt they'll be satisfied with it though. They never are. Sorry, I can't really think of anything sentimental to say to you anymore. I keep hearing the lunch bells from school. Sometimes they just start ringing in my head, usually when I'm craving a cigarette like right now. These ringing bells bring back memories of the countless times I hid under the bleachers outside. I liked when it was snowing the most. It made me feel like a pacifist, even when the crimson liquid slid down my arms. Mom never believed me when I said it was ketch-up. Right, digressing sorry, like I said I'm a dumbass. Oh yeah, I forgot, they don't like when I say stuff like that. Back to the point, dried blood and dried ketch-up really looked different. So, that kid, the blondie with blue eyes liked to sit with me under the bleachers. He never smoked or drank with me, he was just there. It was kind of awkward. I caught him staring at me a lot. I'm not that attractive, I'm just too scrawny, so I never got why he stared.
I wish I could figure out why I keep thinking of him. I hardly remember the damn kids' name, so why does he matter? He was the last thing I saw when I wanted to close my eyes forever. Did you know that? It was like he was there when the blade severed deeper and deeper into my wrist. Maybe he was there. I wouldn't know, they won't tell me. They won't tell me anything. No one tells me anything. Right now, I really wish I just had a cigarette between my lips and blondie tracing my scars.