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English
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Published:
2024-01-04
Updated:
2024-09-07
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1,496
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3/4
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All over a simple touch.

Chapter 3: It’s wrong it’s all wrong-

Summary:

Mental breakdown like usual, Dazai’s suicidal tendencies start to pop up again

 

Dear xoxi, and all the other readers that have sparked interest in this book,

I am so sorry for how long this chapter took me. This fic is something I hold very dear to me, it’s a sort of outlet for my feelings. I only truly update this story when I feel my mental state is lacking..

These past few months have been great, it’s the best I’ve ever been.

Notes:

But I’ve been spiraling.

Lately I find myself making jokes that shouldn’t have ever crossed my mind.

And so- in honor of friends and all others who have lost or been lost themselves,

Is this small piece that shouldn’t have been created to begin with

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

 

 


CHAPTER WARNING: Mentions of suicide & self hatred are extremely prominent in this chapter. (oddly graphic?) Please do not continue reading if this is something that you feel you cannot handle 

 

That being said, this specific chapter is meant to be read with lots of emotion, I hope this can mean as much to you as it means to me 

 





I’m going to kill myself I swear I’m going to fucking kill myself-

 

I want to shove a knife down my throat feeling it as it grinds up and pops all the muscles in my neck- stabbing my heart so forcefully the only thing it lets out are squelching noises,

the annoying stupid beat of my heart gone.

 

But I’ll still be here- The heart-

the stupid pathetic piece of a heart it won’t let me leave,

why can’t I just leave? 

there’s no calming beat just squelching in the place of where the beating should be;

 

it’s wrong it’s all wrong.

I never meant for it to be like this- I’ve never wanted this I swear towards my very on being 

 

Why look at me when I shouldn’t be here in the first place.

 

I want to throw myself down a pitch black hole filled with spikes, throw rocks to my head and be forgotten- landing in my very own pool of blood and pitifully choking myself on it in a drowning haze


Pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic- I can’t take it anymore- what good are feelings if you can’t express them without fear of reprimand-

 

I’m filthy

 

It hurts it hurts it all hurts,

 

 

My soul

 

My mind



My body

 

  I’m trapped.



My soul is trapped in my heart.

 

Where is the joy in everything?

I can’t even force myself to eat anymore, the crab I used to eat always ending up forgotten. 

I’m filthy



I want to kill myself, I’ve been joking about it so much and yet I can’t seem to do it.

I want to I want to I want to— I can’t do it.

 

What if I shove a metal chair over myself, banging it against my head so rapidly it busts my skull open- exposing nothing but the remnants of a brain that shreds so easily; holding my neck as tightly as humanly possible as the blood fills my nails and pours down my arms—while my eyes roll to the back of my head, bloodshot and horrid.

 

I’m still here my soul is still here, stuck in the heart that is beating-

the heart that should be squealing and squelching while all the blood from it shoots out staining the last holy white parts of my impure existence.

 

I’m filthy 

 

I’m so sorry I’m so so sorry it shouldn’t be like this, I shouldn’t be like this,

why can’t I just hide it all why must I revert- I was fine, I was just fine!

All it took was one stupid nudge and all of it comes falling down.

 

and down 

 

until it tightens around my neck

 

and I exhale my last breath

 

 

 

.

.

 

.

 

 

 

Notes:

I’m probably going to go through and edit this later. (I have to update the tags now)

Thanks for reading until the end, wishing you all a good day.