Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh and I don't own the character beeing written about in this fic. A pity really.
You Are To Be Warned: Mentions/Hints of Self-mutilation (Self-hurting). Also, for those of you that are very negative towards most things and are suicidal for that matter, shouldn't read this.
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The night was young and darkness covered everything.
Except that small light from a cigarette.
The person inhaling from it brushed his long white hair from his face and gazed at the silvery moon.
He felt like something evil, lurking in the shadows. Like being here was suppose to be forbidden.
I don't give a damn, he thought, so what?
He could do whatever he wanted, he could smoke all the cigarettes in the world, he could choose to die by his own hand.
The possibilities… So endless, they were so many.
Humming a tune with his deep voice, he inhaled the thick smoke and exhailed it from his nose.
He smiled, feeling that burning sensation in his throat, feeling his lungs breathing desperately to survive.
What a weird train of thought.
Thinking about how to kill oneself. Thinking about death.
He imagined hanging himself.
He imagined cutting up his wrists and to wait for his body to be drained of blood.
He imagined stabbing himself in a lung, or in his heart.
He imagined drowning.
No, he didn't want to commit suicide. Not really.
He just felt extremely self-destructive.
Nothing wrong with that, ey?
It's in ones nature to want to inflict harm on yourself. Or on others close to you.
This is a truth many can't handle.
Wonder why, are they afraid?
That's a funny word. Fear.
It comes forth so easily, it brings people down so easily.
But what's even more funny is that the male with long, white hair is now sitting outside, smoking like the fire itself, thinking about self-mutilation, self-loathing, self-everything.
"All are we sadists." He laughes, and chokes on the cigarette smoke, his eyes are watering, but he doesn't care, because when he wakes up on that stone floor of the balcony, he will feel only pain…
…and isn't that what makes humans feel alive?
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Another 'Humanity-should-just-have-a-kick-in-their-pretty-little-asses' fic…
Sorry, but I'm not in the bestest of moods and… and.. just and.
I have no more ideas for plots, just depressing, self-harm ones.
Letting a confused teenager be alone to think, that's just stupid.
I've been alone to think. I've realised now that thinking to much is bad for me, and if I won't stop now, I will surely commit suicide or do something equally stupid to myself.
Whiiiiiining is the only thing I'm good at, ne?
Fuck me, fuck everyone that's not as lovely as you guys here... fuck all those stupid motherfuckers that…
BLEEEH! …. I'm so pissed, I'm so angry, I'm so depressed, I'm so self-aware it's sick.
I hate this…
But for all those who have the patience to wait for updates on Voices, They Say His Demonic Name … I thank you, and will come up with new ideas for a new chapter as soon as I've screamed my way through this hellish Downward Spiral.