Hey guys.
So yeah.
I'm now falling asleep in class and drinking tea to stay awake.
The latter is typical Brit, eh?
Family life - shitty. Nan's in hospital (something to do with her leg), my mother's parents are ill, my half brother's father has passed away, my 'best friend' is complaining about her life and self harming (and overreacting), I'm probably on the edge of giving up on life, my father doesn't do shit to help, my mother's really stressed (and yells a lot now, which terrifies me), I'm becoming colder and more depressed and, I saved the best still last, school is giving me a thousand shoves toward self harm and suicide each day.
School life - shitty. I'm now having to go see a teacher for homework monitoring every lunch time, homework is flooding in like a tsunami, my teachers are expecting too much of me, friends are seeming to leave me (even though they aren't actually), the teachers and office don't realise bullshit, headaches, chest aches, arm aches, leg aches and many other aches are coming at random times and are worsening, I'm falling asleep, I'm not doing homework and because of it teachers make me feel like bullshit and, finally, the lessons are just too much.
I suppose you're the only ones keeping me alive, aside from the few friends I have left, but even now...
Kai's Girlfriend: I've found many songs (Here's the link, get rid of the spaces to get on it:
www.
youtube.
com/
playlist?
list=
PLV1gIh
qpe4cgSx
1IDA0ka30
eCarpkcpki)
Thanks I suppose. Oh, and that's kind of my life. :/ Again, thanks. And it was really one teacher. Most of the other teachers did it no more than four times. And it was mostly the students. Back at primary, it was just the males, and the females just didn't hang around with me. Now it's both. Back at primary, we didn't know. Lol.
Windy: Thanks, though I doubt this is a one time thing. Again, thanks. It was really back at primary, and the teachers here don't mean it. Though my Science teacher once made a comment after he caught me reading. I've been bullied as long as I can remember.
Kairocksrainbow: Thanks, lol.
SwimmerNinja13: Thanks, and I understand. I see... Thanks.
HiroKaiMarc: Okay, thanks.
Thanks to all of you - I'm surprised I haven't got a review saying I should stop whining about my life. You know how often that happens to others?
Okay, short story.
This is one is a crossover between Steven Universe and Ninjago. Will contain depressing themes and OOC characters. First two words named after a 100 word story I wrote for a competition.
Crimson Red and Smoke Grey
A fascinating colour of red, blood was, why, there was a colour called 'blood red', though the real thing was a mix of crimson and blood red, with a touch of garnet and ruby.
Sour Cream seemed to have memorised the colour after seeing it shed from his skin so damn often while he was in his room, though it was sometimes swaying - probably due to the tears that filled his eyes every time the colour started appear under the razor. He'd sometimes taste it, before spitting it out in disgust. Damn, what had led him to such a thing?
Perhaps his step father Yellowtail's pressure on him? The man wanted his step son to become a fisherman - despite the teen's aspirations to become a DJ and that he hated fish - and Sour Cream loathed him for it. Perhaps it was his mother's seemingly lack of love for him? She had Onion to look after, and perhaps she thought Sour Cream could look after himself, but even before that, she seemed to have this slight dislike for him - did he look like his father too much? Was it the expectations of him to be the best half brother to Onion he could be? His friends' accidental pressure of him to be an awesome, or cool, friend? His own pressure for him to be the best DJ in Beach City? The fact that his father was in Beach City, probably ordering a doughnut as he stared out the window?
Maybe it was more.
He wrapped his arms in bandages, throwing the razor to the corner it lived in, and slumped back down on his bed. Oh, what he'd do to be a careless child again who could jump on the bed and not care unless he fell off.
He cocooned under the covers, hoping for a nice rest.
Nice wasn't really there in his life any more.
Oh blood, such a beautiful colour with a horrible story, a lament, blood's lament.
Jamie was silent as he stared at his fresh cut, a grimace mixed with a sad smirk on his face.
How ever would he hide this one?
His parent or his mother - his father left when he was but a toddler - was clueless, but she'd find out if she saw even a small part of this one.
He pursed his lips as he clutched his bloody arm to his chest and ran back to the mail department. "Hey, Barb, you don't have any bandages, do ya?" He winced as he asked.
"Why?" Reluctantly he revealed the cut that went half way up his arm from his elbow. "How did you do that?!"
"Cut it on a rock." He lied.
Cut it on a knife more like.
Blood is so interesting, another form of crying, and, unlike tears, humans craved to see it, especially during conflict.
Lars completed the self harming trio with scars and bruises and burns on his thighs.
He clenched his fists. He would have loved to say that he was hiding it from his parents, that his parent were the cause.
His parents had abandoned him three years ago, and it was his own insecurities and emotions that caused these burns.
He was quiet, he always was at home, and looked at his legs before drawing them into a tight hug.
He proceeded to cry.
Lars, Lars was not one to cry, but this was a special occasion.
Lars had realised that he couldn't feel any more pain.
Numb.
First you light it with the fire that you wish to ignite again, then you inhale the fumes, making you remember when you had that from the flame inside you, and then exhale, reminding you of the bitter time you blew it out.
Kai drew the cigarette away from his mouth, watching the smoke leave his lips. He coughed a little, but continued to smoke it, until it had reached its end. He crushed it and dropped it over the edge of the ship.
He ignored the somewhat annoyed stare Jay gave him as he exhaled in the older boy's face, smoke wrapping itself around the two.
Kai chuckled. Jay scowled. It should have been the other way around.
"You know what's that's going to do your lungs, right?"
"Yep. I did go to school Jay."
"Oh? You seem pretty dumb in spite of that then."
"As if you can talk."
Kai went silent afterwards, and a few hours later, he departed outside. He growled as he glared at the cigarette packet, taking one of the stupid little buggers out, lighting it and placing it in his mouth.
He continued with what he usually did.
Smoked.
It's the mind's choice, in a way, and smoking is a thing one will constantly debate as a teenager - some give in.
Neuro sat in the flat he shared with Karloff, Shadow and Griffin, hand itching for a cigarette. Alas, they had run out, so Karloff was out buying them for him.
Could Neuro not wait any longer? No.
He was quiet, eyes at the floor. He loved cigarettes, smoked a dozen per day, but they were the reason they were low on cash. Neuro couldn't stop buying them, or getting Karloff to buy them anyway, mainly because he refused to quit.
Yes, I agree, this particular fourteen year old, who we thought smart, is pretty stupid. Worry not, it is only the affect of the cigarettes.
Shadow cast a pitying glare at Neuro, pitiful for the addiction Neuro had taken up (and the reason) but glaring because of the situation they were in because of hi- it.
Not him.
Karloff returned with the cigarettes - he'd threatened to buy Neuro a pacifier ("Suck on that, idiot.") so Neuro was glad it was an empty threat - and threw them to the boy. "There."
Neuro gave a smirk before opening the packet, rolling one up and preparing to smoke it.
"Smoke it on the balcony, idiot - you'll set off the smoke alarm!" Shadow swore under his breath as Griffin yelled. Neuro rolled his eyes and stepped outside on the balcony.
He loved cigarettes, he knew it, and he loved dropping it on the person below's balcony, just to infuriate them.
He'd never give smoking up. Even if it killed him.
Usually spurred on by peer pressure or whatnot, teenagers are the target audience.
Clouse was too old for this shit. He dropped the cigarette, almost involuntarily, onto the stone on their island and crushed it.
"CLOUSE!" Chen yelled as he saw his remaining pupil do it again. "You shouldn't smoke any more!"
Clouse just took the bullshit and the lecture, like he always did, but, ironically, took out a cigarette, rolled it and smoked it while he was listening. This was normal.
Chen never realised he was not going to get anywhere with Clouse.
He wouldn't leave him alone.
Clouse leant against the walls of the dojo they lived in, sliding down to sit.
He eyed the cigarette in his mouth and, taking it out, breathed a sigh of sorrow and relief.
He was too old for this shit.
Razors.
Knives.
Flames.
Smoke.
Addictions.
Loneliness.
One day it'll kill them.
One day it'll kill me.
