He Blew His Brains Out Into The Bay, In The States Of Mind It's My Own Private Suicide

Unfortunately, I still wasn't quite dead yet. The thought itself was entirely depressing and was slowly tearing away at my life like it was some sort of poorly constructed jenga tower matched with the clumsiness of a young child.

Except today I didn't wake up, because I never went to sleep; I just took my friends and left. I crept downstairs at midnight and left the house entirely silently; the whole process was far too easy in fact and I think maybe it was due to the fact that I was far too accomplished in the art of staying unnoticed and irrelevant.

I didn't quite know where I was going amidst the danger of a bustling city at midnight, clad in a pair of skinny jeans with unintentional holes near the knees and an oversized hoodie that didn't even smell like it was mine. It had to be mine though, because where else would it come from? It wasn't like I had many friends- or now, any friends at all.

I clutched my fingers tightly around the sharp slice of metal in my pocket, thinking maybe I'd have to use it as a weapon in case anyone approached me, because I didn't live in the kin o place it was safe to be out alone at this time of night, but then again, nowadays, nobody did.

I made my way out of the city towards the bay and perched myself dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, yet in my case not quite close enough.

I didn't think I intended to jump tonight, but I'd have to see how things turned out, but right in this moment I was far too content with watching the moonlight reflect upon the calm tide as it lapped in and out of the bay.

The sky was clear tonight, illuminating the bay enough for me to not even bother wasting my cell phone's battery by setting it to torch mode, not that I even intended to regardless.

It was just nice to be here, on the outskirts of nowhere, watching the nothingness and contemplating running away and living like some sort of mad man here, away from everyone, away from society. I think I'd like that.

I'd like to clear my head, to clear my life from everything and everyone, because I'd like to just be forgotten, for no one to even notice I was gone, but things just couldn't quite work out like that anymore, simply all due to Vic Fuentes and his decision to get far too involved with my life.

And of course the decision of my heart to get far too involved with him. Wouldn't it just be easier if I ripped my heart out entirely; emotions are a hassle that's for sure, and maybe feeling empty would be the perfect cure. The blood loss, heart failure, and eventual death were all minor side effects that I was more than prepared to experience, and in the case of the latter, it was one I welcomed.

And then the first cut was made; the first press of cold metal against my skin was carried out in a perfect motion and I spilled red everywhere, but I didn't care. I was pretty sure I hit far too close to vein, but I didn't care at all - I couldn't care, and in fact if I was going to do anything, I was going to fucking celebrate, because right here, right now I was doing the whole fucking world a favour, and maybe, maybe I should just finish off the job.

I took another slice against white porcelain moonlit flesh with the now red metal, relaxing into the familiar sensation of writhing pain spreading down my arm and slowly ebbing out into a calm that meant far too little altogether, so then I made another one; for the same sensation, because this was an addiction and it was too good entirely.

And then I made another.

And another.

And then I had five.

And then I had ten.

And then fifteen.

And now twenty.

And I laughed because I wouldn't make it to twenty years old - there was no doubt about that. So I made another, in good humour, because I'm a light hearted person, who's now suddenly very light headed. Which is awfully ironic, yet of course nothing but unexpected.

The light headed is good though, because with the light headedness, I'm not really there anymore, and the whole world seems like some sort of sadistic illusion crafted only within the mind of a mad man, locked away for eternity inside the walls of a mental institution, and then, then I realised just how close I was to the truth, so I make another - a reward for being right.

And then I have twenty two little cuts of my arm, and seventeen of them are bleeding, and at least four are deep, yet none of them have quite killed me not yet, so I make another, because I want to get the job done. I hate unfinished work, and I don't want to be a hypocrite- well, not today at the very least.

Neither the twenty third or twenty fourth quite accomplish my intentions or fulfil them to an extent I was satisfied with, so I continued, making the twenty fifth, my arm digging into the skin and then... then everything just stopped.

I thought maybe I woke up from a terrible nightmare or died or something but I wasn't quite that lucky - the whole world stopped because there was a strong grip on my arm, leaving the blade to fall through my fingers and over the edge of the cliff, leaving me with not twenty four, not twenty five - twenty four and a half, and that wasn't right.

I didn't like that - things needed to be complete. And this job, being a highly important task, very much needed to be finished.

"I hadn't finished." My words tumbled out without any rationality or concern for just how the unknown hand shaker might react to the twenty four and a half cuts on my arms; eighteen of them bleeding, at least five of them deep, and half of one might kill me, if only I had the chance to finish it.

"Good." The voice was gruff and evidently just a little pissed off, presumably regarding what I hadn't quite had the chance to finish. The figure sat beside me, their face illuminated in the moonlight. They were a he, with brown hair and a lip piercing, covered in tattoos that ought to scare me, but I was covered in scars that ought to scare him, and yet neither of us were scared, not at all. What a predicament.

"You shouldn't do that." He spoke once again into the silence, joining me as I watched the waves lap in over where the blade fell, the shiny metal finally drifting away with the current and being washed away where I'd never see it again. I missed it; I missed my best friend. And that sounded practically normal- well; it would, if my best friend wasn't literally the only thing that was best at destroying me.

"People keep saying that." I sighed out, not quite making eye contact with the tattooed stranger. One who I was growing to hate, primarily on a basis of interruption, but he did look just a little but like an asshole. He had a certain likeness- I don't know... I just read it off him. I wondered what he read off me. And then I realised that I probably wouldn't really like to know at all.

"Maybe they're right." He mused, leaving me to increase my hatred for the unnamed guy even further.

"Maybe they're not." I counteracted, clearly pissing the guy off a little, but then again that was nothing short of my intentions.

"I think they are." He said after a moment of silence, pushing his words into the world with force, almost like they meant something.

"I think they're not." I replied instantly, not even thinking about my answer and how easily this could all lead into a childish argument from here. I didn't care all that much though; I didn't know this guy - there was no reason for me to give a flying fuck about him.

"I guess we'll have to agree to disagree then." He let his words tumble out after a while, not quite catching my gaze and taking me aback just a little with his odd display of maybe a little misplaced pacifism.

"Yeah, I guess." I replied, not letting on just how much his words had fazed me, because that was something he didn't need to know at all.

"I guess so too." He continued in much a similar manner, leaving me with little but a confused and askew judgement regarding the stranger.

"You don't care." I pointed out, maybe just to try and regain a little stability, because with this nothingness and uncertainty, I felt like I was drowning, but not at all in the way I wanted to. "You're not even pretending to." I continued into the silence.

"Are you upset? Should I be pretending to? Because kid, I'm not the best at shit like that and I really don't want to disappoint." His words came out bitter this time and I panicked, wondering if I'd struck a chord or something like that.

"No, I'm just surprised, almost thankful about how little of a fuss you're making." I inhaled a gust of cool air. "Everyone else cares, far too much in fact." Everyone meaning no one other than Vic Fuentes, seeing as he was the cause to practically all my problems and this headache raging rampant upon my mind.

"People do that." He continued, his words quiet and low in tone, almost as if he was worried someone might hear him. "Care."

"Mmm..." I sighed, not mimicking his tone and keeping my voice normal, as I was content in the fact that we were more than far enough in the middle of nowhere for no one to hear us. "They care too much when they really don't care at all though and that's what's really the problem."

"There are a lot of problems with people." He ran his hand back through his hair.

"Why do you understand?" I asked out of nowhere, confused as to how this guy seemed to almost be taking the words out of my mouth and bringing them into reality for me.

"I don't - no one does." His brown eyes met mine; they were nothing short of sincere, but with every second, my belief in his words did nothing but decrease.

"Well maybe you're the closest to understanding anyone's ever been." I reckoned, because okay, he stopped me, so surely he didn't get it all, but he was pretty damn close.

"Maybe I am." He shrugged it off like it was nothing; making me feel just a little uncomfortable, but I pushed the feeling off and continued.

"You are." I exhaled, pulling my gaze over him. "Why?"

"Ask yourself - why do I seem to understand?" He answered my question with a question, which was going to do nothing short of leaving us in a terrible mess.

"Because- Because-" I couldn't at first, but I gave myself a moment and then everything came tumbling out. "You're not freaking out, you're calm, and you aren't threatening me or insulting me or making a fuss, you're acting like it's nothing and you're not pretending that you care. You understand because you're not trying to."

"That makes very little sense." And of course he'd do nothing but put me off further by dismissing my earnest attempt at an explanation.

"None of me makes any sense." I let out with a sigh, accepting the fact that I really was nothing short of a catastrophic failure.

"I said very little." He emphasised his previous words. "Just enough sense in my opinion."

"Not in mine." I sighed out, letting the thoughts drown over me once again, and wishing I could jump down to meet my blade again. I wouldn't make it down to finish the twenty fourth though. I was sure of that, but I wasn't quite sure just how opposed to that fact I was.

"Then I guess we disagree."

"Who are you?" I hit him with a direct question yet one I suspected he'd still manage to dodge around regardless. "Are you even real?" I was wondering if he was just a symptom of blood loss and general light headedness.

"I don't know if I'm real. Are you real?" Now that was a question that did nothing more than run amok around my head.

"Far more real than I'd like to be." I admitted, albeit a little reluctantly, but it was admitted nonetheless.

"Then don't be. Real is a matter of your own belief - it's like Santa, he's real when you're little because you don't believe in him. Believe that you aren't real and then maybe you'll drift away into nothingness entirely."

"I'd like that." I imagined it all too easily. "But it's hard to forget that I'm real when everything seems so real and the pain is so real." And the twenty fourth still stings but the half doesn't quite sting enough.

"I never said it was easy." He continued, as if I was absolutely ridiculous, which of course did wonders for my self-confidence. "As I said, belief - it can be applied to anything you want to disappear."

"You make it sound magical, like a pretend fairy tale or something."

"Has it ever occurred to you that the whole of reality may just be in your head?" He continued as if he was doing nothing more than reciting his shopping list, as opposed to practically blowing my reality apart, "that none of this is 'real' at all?"

"That would explain why my head hurts so much." I admitted, clutching my temples.

"No, you're dizzy from blood loss." He said very matter of factly.

"Oh." He brought my attention immediately back down to the twenty four and a half cuts on my arm. "Why did you stop me?"

"You were doing something stupid." He didn't seem to think anything of the fact that I was slicing away at my own flesh and admittedly that really did kind of unnerve me.

"I do stupid things a lot."

"We all do."

"I fell in love." I found the words tumbling out and then seconds later I found myself wondering why I was even considering telling this to this random fucking guy.

"Don't do that - look where Romeo and Juliet ended up."

I let out a half-hearted chuckle, wondering as to how this had ended up relating back to Shakespeare. "At least they ended up dead."

"Life is a curious matter though." He paused for a moment. "It is a truly underappreciated, and only when it is too late do people come to realise that."

"Is it too late for me?" I asked, my voice barely audible as it came out in a scared stammer, because I knew the answer, I just didn't want to hear it. I didn't want confirmation.

"What do you think?" He asked me.

"I don't know." I shrugged it off, entirely waiting for his answer.

"It's a matter for you to decide for yourself. I believe that everything is within our control if we want it to be - the human mind and its influence is truly underappreciated."

"Who are you?" I repeated myself, in awe at this person and wondering whether they were incredibly clever or just incredibly high.

"Person is indeed too a matter of perspective." I swear I understood like one word in that sentence.

"What?"

"I'm whoever you want me to be: I'm a son to someone, a brother to another, a friend to others, a lover to one, and no one to the rest. Who I am to you is your decision. And the same goes both ways."

"Who am I to you then?" I initially daren't ask but slowly the words did trickle out, as curiosity always won in the end.

"Lost."

"Pardon?"

"You're lost. You're not quite alive, and you're not quite dead - you mean something but not quite enough. You're on a tight rope of neutrality and one step of conscious influence can send you anywhere. Life is entirely in your hands right now."

"I disagree."

"You could jump off that cliff or you couldn't." He gave an example, one that enticed me more than anything.

"You'd stop me." I pointed out the obvious, but he shook his head, in evident disagreement of what to me was the blatantly obvious.

"Whether you'd allow me to would be again a matter of your own choice." I wondered if I should be fucking referring to him as senpai at this rate.

"This is making my head hurt." I confessed.

"As I said before I do believe it is the blood loss." He reached over and bandaged my arm with the sleeve of his discarded jacket, as if it was actually nothing.

"That's not going to hold-" And then I stopped, because I saw his arms. And I couldn't stop staring despite how much I knew I had to.

"It will if you want it to." He continued unaffected, yet incredibly aware by the fact that I was staring right at his arms; littered with scars. His arms were littered with scars and that was how he understood.

"You understand because you're like me."

"If that's what you want me to be. It's within your decision that I understand."

"I'm indecisive." I admitted, a small smile riding over my lips.

"No, that's a decision you took to label yourself as such. Make a decision now. Go home and go to bed, or jump and don't." The fact that he put it out so willingly, accepting the fact that I may just kill myself before his very eyes like it was nothing did nothing short of unnerve me.

I looked between the cliff and the road, I looked at his face and the city lights and how decisions had struck my mind and somehow everything was confusing yet made so much sense at the same time.

"I've made a decision." I announced into the eventual silence.

"Care to tell me?"

"Care to tell me your name?" I pressed, still in confusion regarding this guy; I wanted answers and it just didn't look like I was ever going to get any.

"Care to tell me yours?" He counteracted and really I should have expected it by now.

"I'm Kellin."

"You're going home."

"What?"

"I know you are, because you want my name, because you want to find me again, you want to meet me again. You're making me someone."

"You're right." I admitted with closeted reluctance. "And your name?" I finally asked.

"Mike." He finally answered.

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