#everythng

You people think that death by your own hand is a picture of a person pushed up against a wall - left with no choice, no other hope for happiness, no color left in their world save for the red running down their wrists.

And you love it. You all love it.

Maybe because of the Romeo and Juliet crap your old senile English lit teacher shoved down your throat in high school.

Maybe because we're people trapped in rooms set ablaze by invisible flames and suicide's the nearest, most convenient fire escape.

I'm not saying it's ridiculous. It's not. We all cope our own way. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with how you deal with your demons.

But.

I'd like to show you mine. And maybe, once you've heard me out, you'd want a taste of my own flavor of depression, anxiety, or whatever those shrinks call it.

I see death as a way out, too. But more of as a temporary fix rather than a permanent solution.

I want to kill people.

And no, this isn't a joke like, "Oh, God! Why'd you tell him I like him? I'm so gonna kill you."

No.

It isn't something passing. It isn't something temporary. It isn't something I can ignore for longer.

It's a hunger that I cannot sate.

Your body - strong and willing to live - is fighting a mind that oh so willingly wants to die.

My body - strong and willing to live - is fighting a mind that doesn't want others to enjoy life's simple joys such as breathing.

The same amount of strength and will to stop me from killing others is the same as what you need to stop yourself from taking your own life.

That taken and multiplied ten fold.

For I hear the call whenever someone gets too close, when I am wrapped in darkness, when no one is looking, when I know I can hide my prey.

The same voices you hear that tell you to "end it all". Are the same voices that tell me to "end THEM all" that man by the bus stop or the child by the swing set or that girl smoking Reds by the store

Red.

I want to see red. Glorious red dripping from every orifice that you have and the ones that I just made with this pen or this knife or this umbrella that I just broke.

Look at their shiny edges! Oh how their sharp tips sing, "KILL THEM! LEAVE NONE ALIVE!" Look at this gorgeous steel! How pretty it would be when it's dripping with thick crimson.

Oh glorious crimson raining down from the skies. Flooding the streets. The air, smelling like raw iron.

"You need to get checked." "There's something wrong with you." say my suicidal friends.

Hypocrites, one and all.

They rest knowing that when they've finally accomplished their small act of murder, they'd die having the luxury of everyone's sympathy.

"Oh. She was so happy. We didn't see it coming." "We didn't know. We wish we could've helped him."

While I, who have bodies strewn at my feet, will remain an outcast, misunderstood unloved till the day I, too, feel Death tug at my bloddy cuffs.

I may have killed myself long ago For no man should find solace in the thought of another's demise.

"Oh my God!" you normies say. "Psycho!" "Freak!"

Hush.

I don't need your sympathy. "You're all weak!" say the voices in my head. "For why should we stop at one, when we can kill many?"

I can almost see you clasp your mouth with your hand and say

"I hope you die!"

I will. But.

You. First.

De alguns anos pra cá o conceito de fã foi mudando a cada dia. Se perguntarem aos pais provavelmente ser fã na época deles era apenas gostar das musicas de uma banda/artista, não que isso tenha mudado atualmente, mas o conceito de fã vem se tornando algo muito mais profundo, coisa que pessoas mais velhas não conseguem entender.

Você ser fã de alguém hoje em dia é se inspirar na pessoa, admirar o trabalho dela, apoiar os projetos dessa pessoa e aceitar a felicidade que o artista pode te proporcionar, e qual o problema nisso? Constantemente vejo pessoas mais velhas dizendo que fãs só gostam do artista pela beleza que ele tem, como se fôssemos ao todo meninas com os hormônios a flor da pele querendo casar com o ídolo.

Não é pecado você amar alguém sem conhecer, as pessoas só querem que você pense assim porque elas não conseguem entender esse amor. O que há de errado em se inspirar em alguém? O que há de errado em alguém que nem sabe seu nome te fazer feliz? Não há nada de errado, pessoas julgam os fãs como se fossem crianças idiotas idolatrando pessoas bonitas de aparência quando na verdade só estamos admirando uma pessoa pelo talento que ela tem.

Os chamados "idolos" nos proporcionam tanta felicidade a cada dia e isso não é ruim, ruim é você se excluir de experiências como essas porque pessoas falam que não é correto essa idolatria. Nunca se tratou de idolatria e se cada pessoa pudesse tomar um minuto pra sentir o que um fã sente pelo seu ídolo eu tenho certeza que nunca mais julgariam fãs assim.