Oh, I can't wait until the day comes, the early morning of January 1st, 2019. I can't wait. I'm still unsure if it's the right decision or what I'm going to do. My mind is in a huge jumble. My friends are wondering why I'm distancing & isolating from myself & to be honest; I want to tell them. I want to tell them that I'm distancing myself to prepare you guys how it's going to be after I'm gone.
I have a concert tomorrow night & honestly; it's going to be the last one for me. Cause we have winter break starting on the 21st of December, which is about a week & two days & I can't wait, cause I'll be filling my stomach up with comfort foods & sleep, with Netflix, Hulu & YouTube. People are gonna ask me, "Why are you eating? You usually don't eat..." "You okay?" "You look like you finally gained some weight..."
Yeah, only to die in less than three weeks.
I can't believe how happy I am to actually end this horrible life of mine. It's not even a "life," it's torture to be here. Living in this so-called "home," in this so-called "world," in this so-called "perfect society." I don't want to be part of that anymore, I just want to be gone & dead & going to be the next Devil of Hell. Cause I'm sure about one thing; I'm not going to Heaven.
I don't think people who kills themselves go to Heaven, either they go to Purgatory or Hell, I forgot which one. But, either way, I'll be fine, cause honestly... I don't want to go to Heaven. I don't want to go there to see my relatives there, pestering me questions on how I did & whatnot. I wouldn't want to be up there...
I just want to be in Hell, torturing my soul away, cause why the fuck not. Why the fuck not because I'm already suffering, so it'll be a little weird if my life just suddenly stopped suffering. I would never get used to that life. I would be practically begging God or whomever is up above in the clouds of Heaven, begging them to release me down to Hell.
I have this benchmark tomorrow & frankly, I want to end my life early just to avoid that.
I don't want to do anything anymore. I mean, I have decent grades; three B's, two A's, a C & C. ALTHOUGH, ONE OF THE FUCKING B'S SHOULD BE AN A BECAUSE THE TEACHER SHOWED ME WHAT MY GRADE WAS & IT WAS A FUCKING A. I can't deal with this kind of bullshit anymore.
People are really fucking pushing me. People are really testing my patience... People want to see me snap & kill them. Like I killed that other guy. He showed up on the news about a month ago; "Schoolboy mangled to pieces & currently unidentified due to injuries." "Local schoolboy, murdered what appears to be about two weeks ago, on November 26th, 2018." "Murdered teen's name is Robert Franks." "His body was found in a dumpster in an abandoned warehouse, no security cameras caught anything suspicious." "Police have named this as a cold case." "Killer yet to be found for this cold case, no justice for the grieving family."
I miss Tony... My twin brother. God, I miss him so much. I have no one else to talk to... I have nobody else. I have nobody. I'm all alone. I want to die so I can see him again. "You fucking disappointment." "He didn't need to be tainted by your fucking influences." "He's my son. Unlike you, he's doing something with his life."
See, my father doesn't see me as his son... He sees me as a mistake. See, if I was the one who died that day on October 14th, 2017, he wouldn't even bat his eye. He wouldn't even breath. He'll say, "Good, that bastard deserved it." But if I died instead of Tony, I know he would've killed himself on that exact same day.
But the only son he would be mourning is Tony. I wouldn't mind that, cause like I said before...
I was never a son in his eyes.
I was never there.
I was just a big mistake to him & the family & I'm just a blank space in his memory.
So, how does it feel to be a terrible human being who wants to die every single day so he could reunite with his twin...
It feels dreadful.
768 word count.
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Journal Number One
Teen FictionHe was an ordinary student... with only several problems. He had a normal life... until "it" happened. He doesn't know how to cope... so he writes it all down in journals. Hidden in his room. What'll you find? Will you find his smile? Or his happine...