Hide.
That's my word.
I can't seem to live without it.
That's my life.
It's who I am.
Escape.
That's what I long for.
What I desire.
What I need.
Real life insecurities are my worst nightmares. The smallest things in life are my insecurities. I live like that.
When will life fall apart? Or better yet, what will happen when life falls apart? It has to. It has been holding up for to long now.
They tell me it's almost over. They say, "You're nearly out son!" It's a nice thing to say. But happenings speak louder than words. Refreshing as it is, I can't seem to see it happening. Not to me. I don't deserve it. I haven't been a good boy. I've been a liar. I've been a dreamer. But worst of all, I've been dead and resurrected.
I shouldn't be here.
I know I shouldn't.
But...them.
They say, "Don't be talking nonsense boy!"
Pathetic.
That's what they are.
I guess we are family.
They have to be. They're liars. Like me.
I'm not special. Yet, I'm treated like royalty. Even Jesus Christ is at my feet. But, I think they like to torture me.
I've always been an exception.
Why?
I don't know nor do I fucking care.
Or do I?
I don't know now I do fucking care.
Stupid thoughts making me think.
Are they right?
Are they wrong?
Why won't they stop laughing? What's so Goddamn funny?
Is it the blood?
Or maybe the blade?
Yeah, it has to be the blade. So hilarious.
Crazy, working class bastard, sitting on the bathroom floor looking at it.
Why won't it stop looking at me? What did I do to it?
I need it; it shouldn't be the other way around.
But it's my lover.
It seduces me. With it's smooth, shiny, beautiful surface.
So beautiful as it dances.
Dances along my skin. No mess, no fuss.
It loves me.
Why? Cause it hurts me.
Everyone who loves me hurts me.
It loves me.
But then it leaves me.
Now I'm lonely. Again.
That's when the bloody hand comes in, handing me the bloody pills.
Chemist bag of painkillers with a glass of rainwater.
Fuck the rainwater and reach for a beer. Don't be orderly.
Chuck in one then another three then maybe five.
Searing tears. They burn.
Escape! I see it. It's there, I see it.
Keep swallowing.
My lover comes back in the room sees me having an affair with the pills. Cut deep by her or him. I don't care if I'm gay.
Keep cutting.
Deeper you idiot.
Beer. Pills.
Keep swallowing.
So sick. Need release.
Can't keep cutting. There's nothing to cut.
Nothing but memories. They fade.
Great.
Muffled knocking and screams. Here they are. Liars watching their hero die.
Scream. Just for the hell of it.
Slowly screams deafen. It's just them.
Escape it's finally here.
Last life lesson learned:
Escape plays out like a life.
There's the beginning.
There's the middle.
And best of all, the end.
We all play a role.
No villains, they're plastic.
No sidekicks, they're drugs.
Just heroes. They're real.
Yeah, a working class hero is something to be.
a/n: Confusing, yes. But I adore Chad. Such a great character. I love writing about him. This is not one of my best, I feel. Hope you enjoyed anyway. And leave a review if you want.