Struck A Chord

You're annoying you're annoying you're annoying you're annoying you're annoying.

It repeats in your mind no matter how hard you try to ignore the words that have haunted you since you were a child. You heard them again just recently and they seem to stick to every inner corner of your mind and grasp the soft flesh imbedding themselves into the very clockwork of your brain.

Irritating. Annoying. Idiot. Immature. Stupid. Loud. Annoying annoying annoying.

You slam your fist against the wall trying to alleviate the mental pain with some type of physical pain that might occupy your raging thoughts.

Annoying!

The word continues to plague your mind as you reach for a unnecessarily large bottle of vodka you keep in your freezer. The cold bottle sticks to your clammy hand as you grab it by the neck and stumble into your backyard.

You open the bottle and let your lips connect to the opening. The clear bitter liquid fills your mouth as you gulp it down. The taste disgusts you but it numbs the pain.

Pathetic. Mistake. Unwanted. Disgusting. Annoying.

Tears begin to pour down your cheeks as your inner demons continue to throw the words at you like someone pitching a baseball. The words hit you like bullets forcing more tears from the corners of your eyes. You gulp down more of the liquid, the burn from the alcohol making you retch. You continue to gulp down the liquid from the bottle until its empty.

What are you doing?!

Your mind screams at you. Everything begins to turn fuzzy. Your vision is fading.

YOU'RE GONNA DIE!

Your mind screams at you once again. You begin to retch once more throwing up all the liquid along with bile as you haven't eaten anything in days. Your mind gets fuzzy and you can no longer hear the voices in your head.

You smile as everything goes dark forever.

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