A/N: Thanks for reading! So, I don't really have any idea what this is going to be about yet, but it's either this, or go and eat a piece of my wonderfully delicious-tastic birthday cake, and fan fiction won't make me fat! Hopefully… dun dun duuuuuuunnnn. I decided to write something deep for once, so don't blame me if it sucks. I was kinda feeling depressed, and this is what happened. This is exactly why I need prozac.
I was going to die.
I was completely aware of that fact. But for some reason, I kept holding on. If not for that one little thing making it's home in the back of my head, you know, like the back of your closet, the things you never even think about anymore, I would have just gave up a long time ago. But, of course, some things should be left in the back of the closet, never to see the light of day again. While lying there, the blood soaking through my sleeve, moistening the black fabric so that it glistened in the moonlight, one word kept swirling through my half conscious thoughts: Max. And along with that tiny three-letter word came a lifetime of pain and longing and frustration. It was chock-full of old and recent emotion, things that I have tried to ignore but haven't completely forgotten about. I kind of wish that all these feelings would have just stayed hidden in the back of my mind, never to be thought about again. It would've saved me a lot of pain, but you can't stay in denial forever when love is on the line. And apparently, so was my life.
I just wanted to forget. That's what this was all about. I suppose my thought process was that if I sat here and dug into my skin with a small pocket-knife, than maybe, just maybe, the constant searing pain of rejection would lessen, if only a little. I had hoped that the physical pain could distract me from my thoughts, but my ingenious plan had epically failed me. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, she was all I could think about. I guess from repetition, my mind had become accustomed, if not completely addicted, to pondering and mulling over why she didn't feel the same way about me, for hours upon hours. While I was falling asleep every night, I would make the same mistake of letting myself think about her, her sparkling deep brown eyes that glistened and shined when she was happy, and became engulfed in fire and furry and cold, unsympathetic rage when she was angry. She had trademarked the death-glare. I thought about her adorable stubborn thick-headedness that somehow made me want her more, even, dare I say, need her. I needed Max. And frankly, that scared me to death. No pun intended. I didn't want to have to depend on another person. It made me feel weak, like I couldn't take care of myself, let alone protect by beloved Max from the numerous evils of the world. It's just so… so unbearably lonely in my head, no one to share all my deepest thoughts and feelings and ideas with. I half expected to see a tumbleweed roll by.
I just wished that all this emotional shit would leave me alone, just for a day, just to see what it feels like to not want to crawl into a hobbit hole and die a slow painful death every time you see the love of your life walk into the room. I hate feeling vulnerable, maybe even more than Max does. Which is why I was ending this. I was ending it today. Nothing could change my mind, and if they could, it would probably be too late anyway. I looked down at the blood covered knife on the floor and thought to myself, almost letting a smile loose on my face, it won't be long now. Soon, I would be somewhere, not sure where, where I could finally forget. Forget about Max, about Itex, about Erasers, about the painful experiments at the School, about being left for dead by the only father figure I ever knew, and then being betrayed by that very same person, about knowing my mother was just some knocked up idiot teenager who willingly sold me to evil scientists, and most importantly Max not loving me. Did I already mention that? I think I did. But it's the most important one. The only important one. But it won't be important once I'm dead. Nothing will be. Even if there is nothing, no one waiting for me, no light at the end of a long tunnel, even if this is truly the end and there is nothing out there welcoming in all the suicidal kids' lonely souls, than it will still be better than this. Wandering and wallowing in a black pit of nothingness would be better. Never having another single thought, feeling, or tear. The end will be elegant, graceful. I'll slowly float away, leaving behind all of this. Leaving behind everything. Everyone.
A/N: Dunn dunn duuunnnnnn. SHOULD MAX SAVE FANG? OR SHOULD HE DIE?!?
Tell me your thoughts, concerns, ideas, and randomness! JUST SAY SOMETHING DAMMIT!
