The thoughts of self inflicted demise caused by hidden emotion and pent up rage create a doorway between two worlds.
The first world fills you with drugs and makes you feel so good, but then leaves you there to be so easily broken and dismissed.
The other world opens your eyes to the disillusioned freedom that holds all your patronizing fears packed tightly in a bottle high above your head, ready to spill. And that makes it so hard for you to stay alive. It forces you to struggle, but the harder you try, the faster you die and the punishment is more severe.
You realize there is no reason, no point, in putting that much effort into living in a world that constantly tries to put you down.
So you give into the pressures.
The only ones you hurt are those that claimed to have loved you the most. People so close to you the bump your shoulder when they turn their backs on you. The people you look up to only to see them all looking down on you.
Is life worth living if you spend it staring at the backs of your so called friends?
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