Hey a darker tune than my normality. But hey. Oh yeah tryin this out at the top of each chapter there is a song that kinda goes along with the song. If you have it great if not it's ok.
Break Stuff-Limp Bizcut
They say suicide clusters are a rarity. They blame it on suicide pacts. Those pacts usually fail. More the reason to show that suicide clusters aren't clusters. There different suicides. Different people. Different problems. This is the tale of the deaths of the Digi-Destin.
When darkness surrounds a soul all light is blocked from other's view, yet light can still remain, until it becomes shadowed….
'Was this it all comes to? Is there more than this? Is this the only way out?' Matt stood standing on the top of a skyscraper, pacing along the edge. 'Hell life isn't first-class sometimes but then it generally bounces back to normal. But is normal really all that good? Every day you go to school and work your ass off for what? A partchment of paper with letters and numbers to tell you how much of an idiot you are? Then since school doesn't pay you have to go find a piece of shit job to have some sort of income because you flaming parents don't give you a damn allowance.' Matt flipped out a switch blade and began tossing it up in the air and catching it. 'But there was more to school than just laborious work and lectures, yeah there were other beings, like you. Most are dissimilar, some are akin, but still, few are empathetic. Fuck it, I know only one person that is empathetic.' His mind began to swirl with faces of his friends, those who were the closest to him. One face made him cringe and his blood chill. He would never understand the heart. 'Love one second, hate the next. And what use is love anyway? Fuck it's nothing more than an excuse to be able to give into lust. And then once the lust had evaporated, then what? That 'excuse' disappears, and when it leaves it leaves pain, anger and torment. It's all a lie, a bunch of fuckn' shit.' "Fuck!" Matt yelled. The switchblade had slit his finger open. He let his blood drip to the concrete. It trickled down his numb finger. There was a quiet pit-patter of the blood forming a puddle. He knew the sound well, just as the light dripped into a puddle of eternal darkness. Some where in the city he heard the song "one of those days" blare over a car stereo. He tossed the switchblade into the traffic below him. 'Hell would the world even miss him if he was gone. Yeah so what, I bring joy to a small group of people but will ever effect the world? Who cares, we're all fucked anyway, the world will always be there.' He stared coldly into the world underneath his feet. 'Troubled times the world was in. The world would be thankful to be rid of one more negative teen.' He looked down on the city, and spread his arms. 'I always wanted to fly.'