He slammed the door to his hotel room and stalked inside hastily. He wanted this day to end so he could crawl underneath the covers and hide from the world. He was drenched from head to toe, his white t-shirt soaking in the green colored stream of water that trickled from the ends of his hair. His face was slicked with the green strands of his hair as well and his eyes were cold and sorrowful. He was sick of everyone judging him whether it was his so called friends, his admirers, or his own family. Everyone seemed to think they knew him and the way he functioned. Everyone thought they knew what was best for him and always acted out their assumptions and their ideas before ever consulting him. He knew that as of late, he had no more control over his own life. He was spinning out of control trying to please everyone. He tried to keep them guessing, but they knew his tactics too well. Maybe everyone really did know him.
‘If they knew the shit that goes on in my mind, I wouldn’t be here,’ he thought to himself, knowing full well that if anyone was aware of the thoughts that plagued his mind, day in and day out, he would be shipped off to a mental institution in two seconds flat.
‘Well, I don’t give a shit what they think anymore,’ he shouted through his brain, walking over to the bedside table, he turned his CD player on and skipped through the tracks until he found the song he was looking for.
Pick me up.
Been bleeding too long.
Right here, right now,
I'll stop it some how.
He laid down slowly as the words and the heavy guitar riffs started flowing through his senses like an endless stream, the flood of emotions carrying him away into a different world.
He was fed up with every single person he knew, every person had ever encountered, every single voice that called his name. He was tired of his job, he was sick of himself, hell, he hated life itself right now.
‘Why do I have to feel like this? Why do I always end up fucking hating and blaming myself everyday? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t sit back and let then have control of my life. I WILL NOT let them take away what I know!’ He thought, his eyes opening and revealing pale, lifeless green eyes. Eyes that used to be as bright and as carefree as the emerald color of his hair now lost their sparkle and what was left was the wish for death that was never granted.
I will make it go away.
Can't be here no more.
Seems this is the only way.
I will soon be gone.
These feelings will be gone.
These feelings will be gone.
He turned his now watery eyes towards the ceiling, following the intricate patterns above his head with listless care. He wondered silently if anyone would notice if he just dropped off the face of the earth. If he fell suddenly into a black hole and was never seen again, would anyone truly care?
‘Yea, of course they would care. They would be missing a little puppet from their collection. They wouldn’t have anyone’s life to have power over. Fuck! I’m just their little bitch…is all I am,’ he concluded, tears now spilling over his eye lids and down the sides of his face. He was numb to it all though. He had spent so many nights crying himself to sleep it was just as much a part of his daily schedule as breathing was.
‘When did everything become like this? When did my life become so bleak? When did everything change?’ He questioned wordlessly, knowing the answer.
Everything had happened when he started pushing people away.
Now I see the times they change.
Leave because it seems so strange.
I am hoping I can find,
where to leave my hurt behind.
All this shit I seem to take.
All alone I seem to break.
I have lived the best I can.
Does this make me not a man?
He could never confess it, but he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was the cause of it all. First it was the fans. He pushed through the crowds that screamed his name, acknowledging few but not many. People would say he was just having a bad day or that he was just tired.
‘Yea, I was tired of everyone wanting a piece of me. I was sick of everyone thinking the really knew me, when all they knew was what they saw on their TV and what they read in articles about me. They knew nothing about the real me, nothing of the demons I face day to day, nothing about how I cry or how I want nothing more in this world than to leave it,’ he openly confessed to himself, a sob escaping through his trembling lips.
Then it was his friends. They pried and prodded him for an explanation, which only made him retreated further into the darkness of the shell that was slowly surrounded his soul. His brother was one he hadn’t pushed away at that point, but with constant judging, yelling, and challenges, he was quick to turn away from his own blood. The angle might not have been real, but by the time ‘Vengeance’ had come around, he was convinced that there were true emotions behind the words spoken between him and his older sibling.
Last, he shut his girlfriend out of his life. She had given everything she could to him. Her love, her passions, her dreams, her body, and her soul, yet he pushed her away just as quickly as everyone else.
‘She deserved better than a nutcase like me,’ he thought as his heart screamed differently.
Shut me off.
I am ready,
Heart stops.
I stand alone.
Can't be my own.
He closed his eyes tight to try to fight off the flood of the internal pain and insecurities that threatened to overflow within his eyes. He had tried many times in the past to do the same, but had always failed, and before given the chance to stop, he gave up willingly, not having the strength to fight his demons anymore.
I will make it go away.
Can't be here no more.
Seems this is the only way.
I will soon be gone.
These feelings will be gone.
These feelings will be gone.
His anguish and unhappiness ran down his face, leaving a burning trail to remind him of the coward he believed himself to be; the coward everyone said him to be.
‘I am not a coward. I’ll prove to everyone I’m not a coward!’ His thoughts still unspoken, he pushed off of the bed and stumbled weakly into the bathroom.
‘They want to control me? Well, I’d like to see them try to control me now,’he stated smugly in is mind as he opened his shaving case, smiling evilly as the contents.
Now I see the times they change.
Leave because it seems so strange.
I am hoping I can find,
where to leave my hurt behind.
All this shit I seem to take.
All alone I seem to break.
I have lived the best I can.
Does this make me not a man?
His demonic smile had faded and was now replaced with a look of pure concentration as he lifted a single blade razor that looked like it had come from the old times. His eyes rose to meet his reflection in the mirror and the hollow depths of his eyes assured him of his task. He raised the blade so the cold metal lightly grazed his wrist, sending chills down his spine. It took all the strength left in his exhausted body to press the blade down into his skin. He winced and shut his eyes tight as he slowly dragged the sharp metal across his wrist, slicing the layers of skin and cutting deeply into his veins. He opened his tear filled eyes, amazed at what an adrenaline rush the pain had been. He watched carefully as the blood that once occupied his body left in a stream and flowed down his arm and into the sink below. When the blast of adrenaline faded, he craved the feeling again like a drug. He pressed the blade into the opposite wrist, creating just as much, if not more, damage and draining more blood than from his other wrist. He sliced up the middle of the same arm and opened the deep gash with the edge of the razor. Blooded poured from the open wound and he staggered slightly, feeling weak and frail.
Am I going to leave this place?
What is it I'm hanging from?
Is there nothing more to come?
Is it always black in space?
Am I going to leave this place?
Am I going to leave this race?
I guess god's up in this place?
What is it that I've become?
Is there something more to come?
With his last bit of physical strength, he placed the pen and paper he had brought with him into the bathroom on top of the sink. The notebook was stained red and dripped with the thick crimson.
His arms dropped at his side as his mind reeled of what was happening.
‘I’m dying, and its all their fault,’ he thought as his eyes feel heavy and his body went limp. For the first time in years, he slept peacefully.
Now I see the times they change.
Leave because it seems so strange.
I am hoping I can find,
where to leave my hurt behind.
All this shit I seem to take.
All alone I seem to break.
I have lived the best I can.
Does this make me not a man?
As the sun rose and poured its light into the empty room, a knock on the door sounded, followed by a voice that was all too familiar to the unmoving man that lay cold on the tiled bathroom floor. A few minutes later another knock penetrated the stillness of the room. After a slight pause, the door was unlocked and opened and shut forcefully.
“Bro, I know you’re here. Why didn’t you answer the wake up call?” the voice questioned, walking towards the bedroom.
The person swung the bedroom door open quickly; ready to yell at the man still lying, supposedly, in bed. Yet when the door was fully open, there was no one to be found. The individual who had entered the room looked confusingly around the bare room. Noticing the light on the floor, curious eyes followed the light up to the bathroom door. Smiling, the person walked towards the connecting door and rapped lightly, hearing that the shower wasn’t running. When there was no answer, the person knocked harder, wondering what the hell was going on. Finally, enough was enough, and the door handle was grasped in a strong hand.
“It’s just me, don’t worry,” the voice spoke as the door was inched open slowly. The door suddenly stopped, hitting something that was in its path. The man standing in the doorway looked down and saw a set of legs encased in a pair of blue jeans. As he began to smile his face paled and panic racked through his system when he noticed a stream of red making its way across the bathroom floor.
With no hesitation, the man side stepped the door and looked down. His breath caught in his chest and he dropped to his knees, holding a hand over his mouth. Tears flowed down his cheeks though he didn’t notice. He tried for several minutes to cry out for help, but all he managed was small whimpers. Finally, after many tries he screamed out for somebody. Someone came running in and stopped in their tracks at the sight before him. With his hand over his mouth and tears flowing down his face, much like the other man, he ran out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, picking up the phone and calling the paramedics.
The man that had been the first into the bathroom now sat with his younger brother’s hand held tight in his, begging his sibling not to leave him. After the phone call was made, the second man staggered into the bathroom, pulling the other man off of his knees, to his unsteady feet, and out of the bathroom. After the hysterical man was placed, curled up in a fetal position, on the bed, the other man walked slowly to the adjoining bathroom. He had seen the notebook, but feared what it might say. Without even acknowledging the scene before him, willing the pain to go away, he grabbed the notebook and stepped quickly to the other side of the room.
Now I see the times they change.
Leave because it seems so strange.
I am hoping I can find,
where to leave my hurt behind.
All this shit I seem to take.
All alone I seem to break.
I have lived the best I can.
Does this make me not a man?
Pushing fear aside, he looked down at the bloody notebook and read the last words of his best friend.
I am so sorry. It’s not anyone’s fault, but my own. Goodbye.
Love,
Jeff
-THE END-
