Binary

Prologue

Everything is so monotonous here. Everything is so dead. Even the things that I was obsessive about, so long ago in elementary school, now only provide a passive entertainment to my otherwise dreary days. I stare with tired boredom at the closet where my gadgets lay within. Packed away for some High School rainy-day that never comes. My computer hums softly on the desk I sit before, then shuts off into hibernation, forgotten and misused, waiting for my attention. If only I had the luxury of hibernation.

A door slam awakens my conscious self-pity. I hear the heavy leather boots and know that my sister, has finally made it home from school. An hour late. I've stopped asking why she's always late. I've stopped caring. Why? Why am I becoming so numb at only 16?

I know why. Because caring is a subspecies of hope and when you hope, you will eventually be disappointed. And disappointment hurts. God, it hurts. But, if you live in a constant state of disappointment and depression, there's no chance of getting any lower than you already are.

My god, I'm starting to sound like a songwriter for one of those pop goth-emo bands my sister is always listening to. Pining on and on about the darkness and loneliness. The emptiness and hurt inside. How everything hurts and everyone sucks and I wish I could die. I've always wondered why they don't kill themselves. Actually, I know the answer to that too. Because it's all fake. It's all a lie. It's for the money. And these parents stand up and harp about "morals" and how the "music is promoting suicide." Please. If anything, it's promoting greed and sugar-frosted shock factors. If these bastards had the tiniest shrivel of dignity, they'd be dead by now.

So, I guess I'm sort of glad I'm not "that" depressed. I don't want to die. Not just yet. But, thinking back to my computer, I feel a slight twist to my stomach and I allow my eyes to cast down to my arms, lying on my lap. I brush my fingers along the underside of one arm, lightly tracing the pink scars and the rough, scabbed wounds that contrast brightly against pale skin. These cuts are a small relief within my existence, a reprieve from the loneliness and misuse, a method of release from this life, without having to completely shut down. This is my hibernation.

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Thank you for reading! This is my first ZADR fan-fiction so let's hope I've done well!

Special Thanks To: BurningSilence for Beta-ing!