Pete
April 21st
Trigger warning
I'm so stupid.
I can't do anything right.
I hurt Patrick with what I've asked.
I just can't shut my fucking mouth, can I?
Just a suicidal cat, nine tries to get it right.
I can't take this anymore.
Travie's gone, Patrick's hurt, and I'm surrounded by my own hatefulness.
How could I bully Soul Punks for so long?
What have I done?
I drive out to the middle of nowhere, just making sure no one can find me. More realistically 'nowhere' is a mall parking lot at 4am. Friday night, or Saturday morning.
All I took was a few smokes and the entirety of my medicine cabinet.
My mom won't have to worry about me anymore, and Patrick can move on with his kingdom while Dallon will get mine and Brendon will be his handsome king.
I'm sure all those guys will be fine.
And on the plus side I'll be able to see Travie, maybe. If there's an afterlife, that is. I never believed in god, though.
If there is then I guess my head will be in heaven, my soles in hell, and my hips meeting in purgatory. I'm a bipolar person.
In heaven I'll see my grandma, and my dog. I miss them both. In purgatory I'll see Travie. We did some fucked up stuff, but he was a good guy so I assume he'll be there. And in hell I'll see my dad. Maybe get some Satan coffee and we can make up. Maybe.
Or I could be reincarnated into a bird or some shit—I've heard from an old Hindi friend that when bad people die, they become animals in their next life as punishment for their actions. That could happen.
But maybe I'll just fucking die and no one will ever have to deal with me again. My body will be buried, I've written a few suicide notes and in my mom's it says specific instructions of what to do with my body once someone finds it. My suicide notes are beside me.
One to my mom, one to Frank and Gerard, one to Brendon and Dallon, one to Hayley and Bob, one to Ashlee, one to Ashley, and one to Patrick.
They're all a few pages and took all of today to write. I stayed home all today.
I parked my car a few minutes ago, but I can't seem to bring myself to grab the pill bottles and down them all. I've got myself thinking.
Is this a mistake?
What am I gonna miss?
The rest of my life.
Maybe I could finally march in a pride parade without shame, travel the country over a summer with my buds, try to ice skate for the first time, start a band. Yeah, and I could get wasted but It would be okay, make a record, help the kids who feel how I feel, sneak out and have sex, cry into someone's embrace...like Patrick...Maybe him and I would get married. Maybe we'd do this shit together.
And it's so crazy to think we'd ever do those thing because we've been officially together only a week, maybe not even...I know I'm lying. I've known him so long though. All about him. I know him so well...
But it doesn't matter.
He'd be happier without my banter and the bad memories I return to him.
I grab the pill bottles, open them, then tilt my head back and let the pills slide down my throat. The whole bottle of painkillers. Then comes the sleeping meds, and now I feel light headed.
And I look around at my surroundings for the last time. Blue and purple nights, no more nights at the church with my friends; no more midnight kisses with Patrick; no more lunch time complaining from Brendon; no more making out with Patrick in the bathroom; no more coming home to my mom and her smile; no more joking with my friends; no more Young Blood king, I've fallen.
It's a fallen kingdom.
Was it the blue night, gone fragile?
What's a beautiful life, without a beautiful death?
Me giving my life a beautiful death.
Stars, sky, car lights off and only the air surrounds me. I can feel my head become dizzy. What am I doing?
My eyes are closing and I see one final star take over my vision and i can't feel my hands. I can't feel...my...hand-
Black.
No more rosy, cool colored skies.
No more.
Blood cells pixelate, and eyes dilate. And the way I feel...
What a catch.
