maramizo Posted August 13, 2019 Share Posted August 13, 2019 (edited) Samuel. There is no rain. You are merely dreaming. Remember, Samuel, you're already dead. Did you forget how you died so quickly? Come, let me remind you. Your story wasn't always happy, it had a sad start, didn't it? From that one day when you wished it would rain. They say rain is gloomy, but what of the gloominess that comes without rain? The gloominess that creeps up and steals all the beauty that a morning sky can have. That makes you hate mornings. That makes you wish it was raining so they wouldn't steal mornings from you. What difference does it make, to die, when you're already dead? They don't scare me. They're dead, and I'm next. I know I'm next. I'm scared. I don't know why I'm scared. Work. Work harder. Do more. I have to prove it to myself that this world's all messed up. I can fix everything. I can change anyone. I can't let anyone see these thoughts. They'll think I'm crazy. I can't trust them. My parents were wrong, I know they were wrong, don't I? I shouldn't be hurting like this. Who's hurting me? School, that's right. I'll focus on school. I'll get good grades. I'll graduate and be A surgeon or doctor or anything that will get me out of here. Am I dying? Should I be feeling this happy? Do I deserve to feel anything, anyway? Love. What does that even mean? Why does it feel so good? The sun crept its way into the room, finding its way to her naked body, on the bed from millions of years away just to illuminate you. _____________________________________________________ (( I was really planning on not leaving any sort of footer, but it feels like this would seem too random for the average reader. The story of Samuel is not a simple story of "gang banging", or criminal activity. It's the story of psychological illness that goes by unnoticed in the heart of ghettos and slums. We all hear of the shooters and victims, but what makes a man a killer is rarely ever discussed. This is an attempt to accurately portray the manifestation of psychological illness in a healthy teenager that lives in the ghettos, and to follow the life of this man, perhaps for the better, or the worst. )) Edited August 13, 2019 by maramizo Link to comment
maramizo Posted August 13, 2019 Author Share Posted August 13, 2019 Here they are, haunting me again. Why are my friends dead? Bodies lay scattered across the street, like vultures that fell from the sky. They ask me to join them, "Sammy!" "Sammy!" "You're coming with us." Am I a coward for crying? I don't want to go yet. Forgive me, Demon, Spider, Payaso. I want to stay. I want to live. What is this place? How do we know who we are when we wake up? Why do I ask myself where I am when I know I'm going to remember anyway? Home. The ceiling looks at me. I haven't been home in a while. This isn't home. Not yet. Maybe never. What is this pain in my chest that won't let go? As if the tears in my dream went to my heart and decided they stay. I have the whole day ahead of me. Link to comment
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