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Rated: 18+ · Non-fiction · Dark · #2134062
This is a short story about troubles of an acquaintance of mine.
A reason


A journey...

A journey into a lighted darkness.

Observing the world around him, he took mental notes and kept walking. This was the ways of his daily life.

Dark were the clothes he wore and these were merely a symbolization of his inner thoughts. However, if he wore anything lighter than dark, he'd feel naked in his own clothing. He observed and took notes; and could only find even more depression within the thought of a normal life; but he kept walking.

Maybe not normal is the norm and just maybe he was okay with that or maybe not.

He was not accepted upon school grounds, and misconstrued by many; therefore, he lived the life of an acclaimed delinquent.
Yet truly he was just misunderstood. He lived in a twisted crazy family where he only made since to himself. He felt as though he was trapped in this hell hole only for the doorway to heaven to be blocked by idiotic faces that claimed to be his bloodline.

Every time he felt the smallest thread of light attempt to warm his ice-cold heart, he was slapped back in the face by his own family's crazy inhibitions that pushed him away. He walked and observed. He found no hope for escape. As he observed he started to wonder if there is even a point to searching for freedom; for all of the mindless zombies that litter the world with their stupidity. Is he alone? Is he truly alone?

Pain and agony seemed to overwhelm him. Darkness seemed to consume him. Almost as if something was whispering in his ears "...End It..." He began to wonder what the point of living was. He sat in his room and contemplated life. While he contemplated he looked on his shelf and found where the road to "end" began. A few scratches here and there and no one noticed. Each time he picked up his knife, he thought, "I wonder if I can go deeper this time." At times he felt better, like there was hope after all. Then his inconsiderate degenerate drunkard of a sperm donor started the threatening again.

Life continued with his so-called "family", through many spirals of ups and downs, and many fights with the "predecessor of the same first name". More and more scars appeared and not enough caring was shown to prevent them from forming. One day, the knife, no longer held any more "fun" for him.

Outside he blew holes in every tree.
He spat off so much anger and still did not feel free.
He finally had enough as he sat down
And saved the final round.
Into the sky he looked.
One last deep breath he took.
He slowly pulled the trigger begging "come freedom
please come"
Bewilderment was on his face as "click" was all he heard.
Then a voice inside his head saying "It's only just begun"

He stayed lost in a world of pain and suffering
Years he questioned the meaning behind the trigger that fell flat.
He tried to figure it all out,
and kept wondering why.
Until one day he met the two that made it all worthwhile.
They were one's that understood the depths.
They were one's to truly connect.
Finally, a reason,
To keep on living.

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