The Feeling of Pain


“Innocence. Such a magnificently futile word. Innocent. What is innocence? It’s certainly not me, that’s for sure. I’m a freak with long black hair. I don’t fit in. I sit in the back table at school waiting until the weekends for my dad to go to the bar and mom to go out with her friends so I can have my way with myself.
What is a monster? Well... It’s definitely a trait of mine, at least, the part where I am hated by all normal people. Food doesn’t sit well with me. Unless of course I decide to actually eat it, but I rarely do, otherwise I get fat. And when I get fat, I’m ugly, And when I’m ugly I get made fun of instead of just ignored. Isn’t that great? Being ignored? But you wouldn’t know, would you. But you know who I am, don’t you? I cry myself to sleep when I’m alone, I hurt like you can only imagine. I feel the darkness that you continually push away. I don’t fight it because, in the end, fighting it is futile.
I’m the innocent. I’m the bystander in a struggle to between the popular and the cool, the socially adept and their sociality. They would be nothing without me, because I’m the reason they can elevate. I’m the reason they are ABLE to get somewhere higher in life, because they take one look at me and know I’m stronger than them, so they step on my neck in a futile attempt to find meaning in their existence. Yeah, that’s you alright.
I’m a happy person. Fun to be around. Aren’t I? Well of course I am! I’m Insane though, out of my mind, bonkers, lost my marbles. Or… maybe… I’m too normal for all the socially accepted to admit. Maybe their scared of me. Ha! That would be something. Me walking in school with a knife or something. I can imagine it. I can imagine it all. I see the fear in their eyes already. I see the blood. I see the delight even in my own eyes! I see the possibility of MAKING them accept me. Ha!
Where are we? Are we who we think we really are? Maybe in some alternate universe I am actually weaker than you! I am the one on top! I get to be accepted! I am the one laughing at others! I am the one in victory of what I used to be! I wouldn’t be the failure I am now.
I am many things. Failure, Monster, Freak with a capitol ’F’, and insane. The list builds. My parents and teachers call me ‘troubled’. Oh, if only they knew.
Would you cry if I suddenly left your lives? Would you know the difference? Would the world know I died and stop for a second to see if I was alright? Doubt it. Which is what brought me here. And here I sit, gun in my hand, finger on the trigger and ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS HOW I’VE SCREWED UP. ABOUT HOW YOU WON’T MISS ME! ABOUT HOW YOU WON’T CARE!
But now you do.”

He was finished. He got the tape and put it on his chest. Then he took it off. “Whoops, forgot the best part.” He said to himself.
As he drew the knife painfully across his chest he remembered all the drunken rampages. All the jokes. All the good times shared at his demise, which only made him deepen the cuts. Finally he finished. He had mutilated his chest with deep 6 inch cuts all over it and his arms. He stared into the mirror making sure it was enough. Then he cleaned up his room. Shoulda done this before the cuts. Damn this hurts.
When he had finished cleaning his room spotless he lay in the floor, the carpet at first white, slowly turning to red. He finally taped his final letter to his chest. He put the gun to his head. He wanted it to be as gory as it could be. Then he stopped. Dimmit why can’t I remember anything now. I’m such a loser.
He took off his pants and put them in his dirty clothes hamper. He wore nothing but some boxers. He then preceded to mutilate his legs. Now he was done. Ugh, the tapes coming undone. He thought as he looked down at his scarlet chest.
He lay down for the final time. Well… here goes nothi