I wish…I’d tried living just a little more selfishly -Asa Mitaka
Every face, every voice,every mundane pair of eyes.
Blood boils beneath your skin, you hate all of it.
Why do their eyes crinkle at the edges when they smile,
why do they shine with joy from within?
What makes them so superior to you?
All of them sitting together.
Girls with shiny, thick hair;
curled to perfection.
Sometimes, when your dull, dark eyes were glossed over and murky with fury you’d imagine running your calloused fingers through those curls,
rendering them ratty and unkempt,
pulling the strongs of hair away from their follicles.
Your hands would itch and burn at the thought,
twitching, reaching.
Yet ultimately, remaning glued by your side.
So, why did you never attack?
Coiled so tight, what pressure were you waiting for to snap?
Their words should have been enough long Aho,
their dimenishing stares.
“Can’t you do anything right for once?”
“No wonder nobody talks to her”
“You’d just be better off rotting in some ditch”
You took all of it.
You’d think their actions would have been enough.
Yet you failed to snap every single time.
And finally, as you stand before them, gun in hand, you choose yet again yourself.
And you shoot.
Yourself.
Bullet through head, finally bringing you freedom,
horrified faces of those who stood before you.
You leave them with a parting gift that will haunt them far greated than their words truly haunted you.
An inabality to comprehend,
you didn’t feel fulfilled.
You didn’t feel free.
For that last second before your departure, you felt regret.
Their faces weren’t just scarred, they were concerned.
Brows furrowed, mouths twisted, hands reaching to tear the gun away from your grimy fingers.
You shut your eyes,
you wouldn’t feel regret now.
Not now, you chanted to yourself.
I don’t want your apologies now.
And yet, part of you did.
And you know it.
So, you went with a bullet through your unkept locks and a hand reaching out to the world.
Your brain fractured and spweing, and your heart begging for the ones infront of you to stop.
You wish for once you’d given in to your true desires.
To let those figures help you, even for just a second, even if their heart wasn’t in the action truly.
You wish you’d been selfish.
