Disclaimer: I don't own Jeff (he's Vince's) but I do own Briana.
It was cold there, in his mind he knew that this day was coming one day sooner or later so it wasn't much of a surprise that he was about to go through with it. He had been feeling this way for some time now, he was content with the deed, and in his mind, there was nothing keeping him here.
At first, he tried desperately to fight the feeling. "It's not worth it" he would say to himself at the start of his day but as time went on killing himself was all he thought about. He wanted to get rid of this feeling badly, he really did try to stop it but nothing he did seemed to help. He tried to push out his secret demons with friends and family but the more people he was around the lonelier he felt. He needed attention, he needed love, but the people he needed it from didn't notice him enough to give those things to him. That alone hurt him more than any physical act could. So eventually, he shut out everyone but that didn't help him. As his sadness grew so did his need to let go of all of his emotional baggage. He hated the way he felt so one night while he was alone; he decided to end it all, to give in to the voices inside of his head, to just give up. He unplugged the phone (even though he was sure that no one would call for him) got a knife from the kitchen, and slowly but surely cut his left wrist. The cut wasn't deep at all, especially not deep enough to kill him. He laughed as blood ran down his hand and in-between his fingers. He couldn't believe how much of a pussy he had been, to scared to kill himself and all. He was although surprised that there was no pain in what he had done, it actually felt good. He was in control of his life for once. There were no evil thoughts in his head and it was the closest thing to peace he had felt in a long time. This was the beginning of his cutting.
Although this false happiness was satisfying at the time it's sweetness quickly faded. Soon after, he had started cutting he wanted to make up with the people he had once abandoned. Of course, they welcomed him back warmly and for a while, things were good. It was now his new task to keep his cutting a secret from these people and it killed him inside when they found out. Obviously, they weren't pleased and they wanted him to stop. He couldn't understand why they didn't want him to be happy. "There's no harm in it", he would say "and anyway it's my fucking business". Once again he found himself isolated from this world and in a world all of his own. A world where he knew what he was doing was right and to hell with anyone who thought otherwise. Soon his depression grew and the cuts got deeper. He kept a journal all his life and as an adult, he would read it from time to time when he wanted a laugh but now it only made him sad. Ex girlfriends, lost toys, bad grade, even when he got the chicken poxes made him cut deeper into his skin. He really needed a way out.
It was cold there, in his mind he knew that this day was coming one day sooner or later so it wasn't much of a surprise that he was about to go through with it. He had been feeling this way for some time now, he was content with the deed, and in his mind, there was nothing keeping him here.
At first, he tried desperately to fight the feeling. "It's not worth it" he would say to himself at the start of his day but as time went on killing himself was all he thought about. He wanted to get rid of this feeling badly, he really did try to stop it but nothing he did seemed to help. He tried to push out his secret demons with friends and family but the more people he was around the lonelier he felt. He needed attention, he needed love, but the people he needed it from didn't notice him enough to give those things to him. That alone hurt him more than any physical act could. So eventually, he shut out everyone but that didn't help him. As his sadness grew so did his need to let go of all of his emotional baggage. He hated the way he felt so one night while he was alone; he decided to end it all, to give in to the voices inside of his head, to just give up. He unplugged the phone (even though he was sure that no one would call for him) got a knife from the kitchen, and slowly but surely cut his left wrist. The cut wasn't deep at all, especially not deep enough to kill him. He laughed as blood ran down his hand and in-between his fingers. He couldn't believe how much of a pussy he had been, to scared to kill himself and all. He was although surprised that there was no pain in what he had done, it actually felt good. He was in control of his life for once. There were no evil thoughts in his head and it was the closest thing to peace he had felt in a long time. This was the beginning of his cutting.
Although this false happiness was satisfying at the time it's sweetness quickly faded. Soon after, he had started cutting he wanted to make up with the people he had once abandoned. Of course, they welcomed him back warmly and for a while, things were good. It was now his new task to keep his cutting a secret from these people and it killed him inside when they found out. Obviously, they weren't pleased and they wanted him to stop. He couldn't understand why they didn't want him to be happy. "There's no harm in it", he would say "and anyway it's my fucking business". Once again he found himself isolated from this world and in a world all of his own. A world where he knew what he was doing was right and to hell with anyone who thought otherwise. Soon his depression grew and the cuts got deeper. He kept a journal all his life and as an adult, he would read it from time to time when he wanted a laugh but now it only made him sad. Ex girlfriends, lost toys, bad grade, even when he got the chicken poxes made him cut deeper into his skin. He really needed a way out.
