She was everything he wanted. She was unlike anybody he ever encountered; she was the polar opposite of him.
Initialized and folded up like paper dolls and little notes
She made him forget everything he ever hated, and made him remember everything he ever desired when he was younger. She made him feel whole, like he had some kind of feeling.
You can't expect a bit of hope.
Her laugh was the blood on his arms. The more he needed her to be with him more and more and more. Because she was addicting. She didn't need him. She didn't want him. And that made him want her more all the time. The more he wanted her, the deeper her breathed, the deeper the cuts got.
When thought came from the heart
Then there were the days when he brought his gun – the thing he hated most because it was just like cheating in a battle(or in his opinion) and he was just point it to his head, close his head. Then she would call, he would put the gun down and act as if nothing was wrong.
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head
When she called, she always cried. She never said why, but he could tell. He wanted to cry too, tell her everything. But that would mean leaving him powerless, and no he was not about to do that! That was not him. But nothing made sense anymore, so he let himself do these things.
How do you feel? That is the question.
And that one day he cut too deep.
But I forget... you don't expect and easy answer.
On this particular day, he brought home lots and lots and lots of alcohol. And just like that he was out of it. He stumbled around his awkwardly clean apartment, and suddenly got the urge to pick up his table and throw it out the wall. It smashed, small needles of wood exploded all around, but he laughed.
It's just a different scene
Then he grabbed his needle, and inserted the drugs into his veins. He took the dresser and smashed it into his mirror. Her took the whiskey bottle and smashed it into the piano. The impact left him crashing into the pieces of broken material cutting into his skin.
He drunkenly took a piece of the glass slowly and lifted his sleeves, revealing new and old scars. Slowly, he watched as his arm slowly moved deep down his arm, cutting scabs along the way. It didn't sting at all, but the dark red blood oozed its way out.
Remember it's just different from what you've seen
The phone rings, and he starts to pick himself up. The numb feeling is now leaving as the pain starts to crash. He's still not thinking rationally, but he needs to save his own fucking life. The ring tone plays over and over and over again and it won't stop. He rushes to the phone, finally, and answers it with his voice. He knows he has to tell her or he'll keep bleeding and bleeding and bleeding.
Oh god it feels like forever
She knows something's wrong by the tone of his deep voice. She's always known when he was doing something – to himself. He tells her that, yes, something bad was happening to him and for her to come over quickly… because he doesn't know how much longer he's going to last.
Remember what you're staring at is me
A/N: Yeah, something different. I know how many people hate Sasuke, but whatever. He's okay in my opinion. I wrote this at my aunt's house and I haven't really read through it. The female was originally Yuffie, but I can be whomever you please. Please review with ideas. Lyrics from Stone Sour - Through the Looking Glass. (that's what the ringtone was too.)
--DarkSpades.