Make Sure You Kiss Your Knuckles Before You Punch Me In The Face There Are Lessons To Be Learned, Consequences For All The Stupid Things I Say

I think perhaps, in retrospect, I should have killed myself.

I think perhaps it would have saved me a whole lot of grief, sadness and a general variety of equally unnecessary emotions, but things always seem to come to me in retrospect, when it is of course nothing but too late.

I think perhaps that's a shame, but without it, I'd be depriving the world of the honour that was my utterly pathetic stupidity. I owed the world that at the very least, despite my belief that there's no real concept of possession, I think I owe the world - I owe it for giving me the option of the cliff in the dark, and my friends to look after me at night.

I owe the world myself, and I'm going to pay it back before it's too late.

It's too hard and I'm too scared, and I start to question, to scream at God as to why he didn't make humans with a self-destruct button. I think perhaps I'd like that, but I know I wouldn't have stuck around long enough to truly appreciate it; not that that is particularly a bad thing, as it is of course tiny amounts of appreciation only highlighted by the fact that nothing fucking else is worth a second of my time.

If I had a self-destruct button, I would have pressed it by now, and I'd be free from all this mess. Mess is terror for me; something I can never quite escape, despite how terribly hard I try. Mess likes to play games with my head. I'd self-destruct that mess with my own brains too.

I think I would like that.

My head aches from screaming like crazy as I long to listen to something other than the sound of my own thoughts, because it's them, my thoughts that are really going to get me in the end, and perhaps maybe that isn't even a bad thing anymore.

The concept of good and bad are as blurred as the concept of living and dying are for me now; I'm in-between - the grey, the blur, the mess. I'm amidst it all with little to no escape and far too much content for my own good. Or bad, I can't tell anymore.

The wait is killing me though; I kind of wish it could just be over and done with, but as it's been made clear by now, life just isn't that fucking easy.

It'd be too boring that way, of course.

We can't have boring, now can we? God is a sadistic bastard, and just loves it like that. He loves watching us all die by his own hand, by his own disasters, his own havoc, and his own personally designed chaos, all to add up to a perfectly planned demise for us, but I won't let that happen.

I'll go as I wish, even if I have to do it like this - in the most brutal and forceful of ways.

We have no say in the matter of how we really go, and yet somehow we should be thankful of that as well. My head doesn't make sense these days, and yet that somehow manages to provide me with the greatest sense of clarity.

Humans are just something I don't get, and yet I'm stuck as one of them, leaving me amidst a real fucking predicament right here.

And that elusive, mystical self-destruct button looks just so inviting like this, and I'm just so fucking over with this life, but Vic Fuentes just doesn't let things be that way, and yet, he does of course have the fucking nerve to call me the selfish one - honestly, it could make me laugh.

I just don't think I can manage anything that isn't ultimately self-destructive these days though, and perhaps that maybe isn't even such a bad thing, as when you just look at in the right light, self destruction can be the damn prettiest thing there is.

Because it gives me hope for the end, and there's nothing but reassurance in the fact all of this is going to end someday and that we all have much more control than we would think as to how soon that some day is.

And yet, I still find myself in a mess of confusion, both grateful and broken in the absence of Vic Fuentes, but overall just glad for my head to be clear of a certain argument - a certain conversation turned sour, with a topic I'd rather not remember.

Remembering it almost made it seem real once again, and now I'd been using my best efforts to bury those memories amidst the untruths and dreams from weeks ago; lying to myself wasn't the best thing to do, I know, but I was really running out of options and I was indeed doing so awfully fast.

Vic had left and I doubted he'd be coming back in any sense whatsoever, and perhaps that was for the best, because if he was gone, then he just couldn't miss me, and anyway, he'd already read all I ever had to say to him, so really I could just go whenever I pleased, and right now felt just a good time as any.

It felt weird at first, but the enlightening feeling that came soon after was one that made me chest glow in a manner that almost resembled happiness, or at least how I remembered it to be. Happiness was something I could no longer remember, and I think there was no clarity in that whatsoever - it was just sickening and I was just glad I could be decisive about one fucking thing.

My fingers curled around the blade instantly, feeling the metal tight against my flesh, as a strong and unforgettable reminder of what I was about to do was the only thing I needed right now. The only thing I had ever and would ever need.

That was for certain, and I clung onto that like nothing else was, which honestly was far too true to leave me anything but uncomfortable.

And as much as I just wanted to begin; to let the red flow and never stop, I felt like I was in need of a few small preparations. You had to prepare for everything and I hated that, yet I couldn't spare myself the pleasure of pure hypocrisy within my last moments. I think I deserved that at the very least.

I wasn't in the mood for a proper explanation; I think just a few words should suffice, because they weren't just any few words, they were the right words and the ones that meant the most, yet nothing at all at the same time.

I think perhaps I should write them in red - it seems fitting.

I want to paint the whole world red, and now, if I bleed enough, perhaps I can.

I think I live for that and I think I'll die for it too.

I choose red, because really, was there any other way to go at all? And I needed to start now, and boy I had been looking forward to this. I felt like this had been my sole purpose and despite how shallow this sounds, I'm kind of glad I can end right now.

Fuck life, man. Fuck it all.

I let out a whimper with the first slash, basking in just how fucking good it felt to have this freedom and control, even when everything else in my life had gone to utter shit, I knew I could always just resort to this, and nothing could ever top that... well, except the action itself.

And that was consolidated with the second, and the third, fourth, and fifth that followed, leaving me with just enough red for the time being; of course I wasn't going to stop, this was just enough to write my words, to write the final message for someone to find.

I wanted it to be he that found it personally, but the realistics of it was the fact that my mum would walk into my room in the morning after I'd failed to come down for breakfast in the morning, or generally show any other signs of a living, breathing human, which by then, I wouldn't be one.

It only took a few moments until I was happy with my completed masterpiece - my four-word explanation, and it only took a few moments for the sharp silver tongue of my blade to slither down my skin once again, but I just couldn't do this anymore.

I couldn't leave myself here for my own mother to find - that was of course, indecent. I had dignity of some form at the very least, or at least I could kid myself so.

I needed to go and let myself fade away amongst the nothingness of some desolate corner of this fucked up town. To this town, I was nothing but another kid who couldn't take it anymore - I didn't matter; I was just a statistic, and I didn't want to be alive to witness that. I'd rather it be printed boldly across my tombstone than ever live with it for a moment.

Anyway, the odds are that that slab of granite is going to get vandalised and even broken in a town like this one, and the odds of me giving a fuck about that are very low.

I think Vic would though, and that's the single part that hurts - that really hurts, because now I'm lost and far too attached to people that in reality I could really do without, but a heart beating at the speed mine is never really lets you see things as they really are.

And sometimes that's a good thing.

And sometimes it's bad.

But now it's horrible, and I knew I should have seen it coming, but I never do, and I never can do anything about it.

I had my four words as sufficient explanation, and my parents couldn't think I'd been kidnapped or something equally as stupid as that, because Vic would know, and most of all, he'd know it was his fault, and I would love that, because he fucking deserved something, and that would just have to do as his punishment.

Perhaps I should make sure it was obvious in the first place. I knocked the rest of my friends away; tossing them onto the floor, like confetti around my words - a beautiful decoration in my opinion.

The pills added a beautiful touch.

Perfect.

And with that I left, without a thought to Vic or what he'd said or done in my head. I wasn't sorry at all, and perhaps I'd even go as far as to say that he deserved this, but perhaps that was too much, even for him, even for him.

I was still unsure though, I was just certain in the fact that I had no apologies for the asshole that once had the arrogance to say he owned my heart.

I did feel sorry for my parents though, because who would ever want to wash their dead son's blood from the floor?

-

The dark was both an advantage and a disadvantage; I didn't want to see what I was doing and just how much I was loosing myself to my own incapabilities, but it was also the best thing I would ever know, and the last thing too - that is if things went to plan- which they would, because not even 'Mike' could stop me this time around.

I wasn't at the cliff - I wasn't jumping.

I was in the woods nearby, content upon bleeding myself dry.

And I was ready now; I'd always been ready - I knew that.

But everything had a time and a place, and this time was now, and this place was these very woods - rid of Mike, Vic, and any other form of life that could possibly stop me- well unless since I had declared that I had been planning to jump from the cliff top, he'd been patrolling that very area for any sign of me, because although stalkerish, it sounds very much like something he'd quite happily do.

But he wouldn't now - he didn't care now, because now I'd really fucked things up for good, and the only thing I could say to myself was finally.

Fucking finally.

-

Thirty Four.

Thirty Five.

Thirty Six-

"You really shouldn't be doing that." My eyes darted up in an instant, meeting with an all too familiar brown pair that I'd really grown to hate in recent past, as I had done with every human I'd come into contact with, and this time, Vic was finally no exception. "I wouldn't recommend it." He added, slowly approaching me with an air of unnecessary caution that did piss me off just a little.

I had my right to be pissed off, though, and I basked in that. I lived for that, and I lived for it like it was everything.

"Sure, you fucking wouldn't!" I screamed out, my hand slipping against my now stained red skin, increasing the nothingness that seemed to be trapped inside my head like my last remaining pocket of sanity.

Thirty Seven.

"I may be a hypocrite, but at least I'm consistent in my view on things." He let a smirk ruin this perfectly calm demeanour of his, and quite frankly I was glad to see through the cracks, because we could all pretend to the end of the earth, but none of us were ever really quite perfect at all, and there was no going around that.

"Fuck off, Mike." I found myself glaring at him and almost in a reflex like manner. "You just have to ruin everything don't you? Well you know what? Stand here and watch - you're not going to stop me!"

Thirty Eight.

"Okay." And the cracks had been fixed once again, leaving me ready to smash that facade right down with one punch, but I was barely strong enough to move now, and I think this time it really was down to blood loss.

"What?" My eyes widened, seemingly unamused by his lack of one single fuck to give, because having no one care about you wasn't quite so great when it actually happened, despite what I'd been feeding myself all these years.

"Does the word indifferent mean nothing to you?" It cracked once more; only momentarily - a small smile creeping out, but it was a smile that was soon to be rectified.

"Oh." I drew in breath, and realising that for a moment I really forgotten just how hopeless I am, and wasn't that just fucking fantastic?

Thirty Nine.

Forty.

Forty One-

"That didn't mean continue." He interjected, his eyes meeting with the blood stained flesh that may have once resembled my arm at one point in time; the body that may have once resembled any signs of life at one point in time.

"Sounded an awful lot like it to me." I confessed, letting myself drown in my own shame, because at the very least, drowning could kill you and right now that seemed to matter an awful lot to me right now, but really could you blame me? Another fucked up kid stuck with all the blame pinned on my shoulders in an equally fucked up world.

"Trust me, Kellin. I don't wish for you to die." He promised me with eyes that didn't quite match the sincerity he held behind his words, but quite honestly - I couldn't quite give one single fuck right now.

"I guess we differ in opinion there." He chose to oh so helpfully point out the obvious like he was being paid to do so.

"No, Kellin... you don't want to die - not really. You just want the pain to end, I know this, come on." He pleaded from behind both desperately pathetic and desperately tempting eyes. I was tempted to believe in him, but I just wasn't going to let that happen - not again.

"I make more pain-"

"Physical pain, because you want the mental pain to stop." He was right and I hated that. I hated everything. With a burning passion; burning as red as my skin - painted pretty in red.

"It'll never stop unless I force it to, though." I explained, making another in a sporadic manner that I probably should have given a little more thought to, but Mike didn't seem to care that much, so in turn neither did I.

"There are other ways out of this-" He persisted in what he still couldn't see was nothing short of a lost cause.

"You know I thought that at first too." I met his eyes, exposing myself to him in the sheer hope he'd drop the subject from now on and perhaps I could find some peace if not in this fucked up world then six feet deep, sleeping forever.

"What changed?" He continued to dig deeper, as if it may drastically turn the tables in his favour.

"What always does." I let out a sigh. "I stopped believing in me. And I got some new friends. It was okay - I never had any real friends in the first place, but these are the kind of friends that just won't let you leave them alone. They need attention and so do I, so I guess that's how we fit together, but I let go of them now. I poured them onto my bedroom floor, along with my pills and I left four words for my bo- him to find."

"Kind of like a note?"

"No, I just want them to know what I did, and that I don't want them to look for my fucking body; I took myself out here for a reason and it wasn't to get stopped by someone like you who really seems to have absolutely nothing better to do."

"Was that the four words? Don't look for me?" He asked, eyes widened, and guessing,

"No." I let out a sigh, remembering just what the four words are and just how they shouldn't be there, and even more so, how I really had no choice regarding that by now. And perhaps that was for the best.

"Then what did you leave for him?" Mike asked, his voice shaky in a manner that unnerved me greatly. "What were those four words?"

"Being loved wasn't enough."

"It never is. I know that all too well. I knew everything- or I thought I did, but I guessed I hadn't reckoned that the world doesn't let you lose that easily." He let out with a sigh, his eyes obviously making an effort in the act of avoiding mine.

"What do you mean?" I pushed the words out, with my gaze remaining fixated and almost stuck in place.

"Things don't work out the way you planned, Kellin."

"What would you know?"

"Everything."

"Nothing." I corrected.

"Exactly."

And then, somehow, he suddenly just seemed to disappear, along with all hopes of retaining any sanity throughout this life, and I guess in that moment, there really was nothing more left for me.

Forty Two.

 Hey guys:) I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you did, you know I always appreciate your comments and votes hehe;) Love you guys<3