I hate people. The touch, the feel, the sound, I hate it all. If I can confine my senses and bottle them up, I would. I would walk past people, cross the street and think that God must hate me for putting me in a place so horrid where people would only look at their phones, slobber each other up and laugh at the most trivial and useless things. Where has the complexity of the world drifted? Everyone thinks that they are living in future, but they are a bunch of idiots if they think that since they can’t even do something easeful for the world. If everyone would just be intelligent enough, we’d all have flying cars and free passes to movies. I hate people. They make me sick.
I stare myself down on the mirror, look into my caramel-colored locks, the puffiness around my eyes, the dying color in my cheeks, my lips chapping and the sudden changes in the colors of my eyes as I turn the light on and off. When will I stop looking like everybody else, like my mother who told me that I was worthless and should’ve floated down a river and sank at the unknowable sea? I hate myself. I hate that I have to be in this world where people judge you for how you look or what you do. I hate people who can’t help but toss you in a bin where they think you should be placed. They have no right. They have no right to what I want or whether I want to take my own life to get all of this is over with. I left the light turned on, rummaged through my closet for a summer dress. I collected my hair and swept it to the side. This is how I wanted to look like when I die. Simple and fast.
I grazed my hands on the stairs, looked at the family portraits for a while, and tossed them on the floor. God, it felt liberating doing that. I stepped in a few shards of glass and wood and knew that the sole on my foot was bleeding profusely. It didn’t matter. More of it will pour down anyway
I went out the door, locked it and headed out the world of cars, bikers and subway takers. It was winter and wearing a summer dress seemed crazy to others. It didn’t matter. The freezing cold helped nullify my senses. It was better than the idea of people touching my half-dead body, trying to revive me. Yes, much better.
To die in a summer dress, in the cold winter morning. People stared as I stand at the edge of a building, feeling the wind, muting the annoying shouts of people who think they actually care. In this world, where people they have a future, you will always be left to only care for oneself. We are all insane for that. We are all human for that and that fact, I hate that.
I would take my humanity away, to rid myself of my becoming. I would find pleasure in it all. A loud thud, blood on the concrete, my body paralyzed from the pain I have always wanted to feel, myself drifting away from this phony world, I am now free. I died in a summer dress, in the cold winter morning, away from conformity, away from the belief I was ever like anyone.
Tell me what you think of the story in the comments below! I may have gone a lil' rusty! LOL! Anyway, thanks for being patient! See yah!