My life, a living hell

Ever since I can remember my life has been difficult. My parents were both into drugs and alcohol and I pretty much, from the age ten I raised myself.
When I would come home from school I would be lucky if my parents were even around. I never invited anyone to my house because if I did we may have had a surprise. There were many times they were passed out on the floor or if they were lucky they made it too the couch.1

So needless to say I didn’t have many friends, I was afraid too. My only friends were kids that had families like mine. So yes, we would all sit around, smoke cigarettes and bitch about our crappy families. Not that it made any difference, bitching was not going to change our situations. We were just hard luck cases. That’s what the rich kids called us. They avoided us like the plague. 2

By the time I was sixteen I was a complete mess. I was into drinking, smoking cigarette’s and pot. I also had done a few stretches in juvy hall for robberies. I was venturing out more into different types of drugs, still living in my parent’s basement and didn’t have a job. For money my buddies and I continued breaking into people's house's and cleaning them out. It supported our habits that was all that mattered to us at this point. This life style continued for me over the next two years, I continued to spiral out of control.3

I started using other types of drugs and got kicked out of my parent’s house. I was now living out of a house with seven other people. We would party all night long and crash during the day. Women were coming in and out of my life like days and weeks going by. If I wasn’t high on something I was sleeping. I hadn’t showered in a week and I hadn’t been to work in two. I was running out of options for money. My mind was spinning out of control, half the time I couldn’t remember what day it was or how I got from one place to another.4

I was under a lot of pressure to come up with money so we could get our next fix. The stress was starting to get to me; I was chewing my fingernails to the skin and causing them to bleed. My clothes hadn’t been washed in months and I knew I stunk, but I didn’t care. My hair was so greasy you could probably light it on fire. I started ripping at my hair causing bald spots in places. It was just getting to be too much. Every day got worse I became paranoid that people were watching and conspiring against me. The whole world was against me I was convinced.5

I had to go to the bathroom really bad so I got up. I shut the door when I got in there, but instead of peeing I went to the medicine cabinet and found a razor. I unlatched it and took the blade out, my life was nothing. There was nothing to live for I kept telling myself. I brought the blade to my wrists and dragged it through the flesh. Tearing it open, the pain exploded up my arm and I fell to the floor. I was bleeding horribly and I knew I was going to die. I stood up one last time, using all the strength I had left. I looked in to the blood stained mirror at myself. Covering my face in the mirror with blood, not deserving to be seen. The light was getting dimmer and I felt lightheaded. A coward’s way to go, I know. It was time, finally I felt some peace. 6

Author notes

Prompt : http://ofcoursenot11.deviantart.com/art/Murder-47080893

    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
    : Cost: 0 free left 0 points, You have 0. (?) (Line numbers)
    Ratings:

Comments