pss:start, i don't want to live. stop, i don't want to die. (limbo)

another one.

this one i think is very applicable to teenagers--sometimes we just fall into a rut but we're too scared to take any definite action. if any of y'all need someone to talk to, please know that i am here for you.

pss:alternate title:limbo
drake wasn't sure about anything, ever. he was one of the most indecisive of people. his hair was cut strangely because he decided halfway through his haircut that no, he didn't want his hair cut like that. people don't cut him any slack for it, especially since the "people" are just every day high school students. the shirts he wears are always draped over his shoulders haphazardly--a strong wind could shake them off. he walks slowly in his tight jeans, head down and not really taking in any information. his right shoe is black, the other is orange, simply because he can't decide which pair he wants to wear. but they're both the same size, so he just puts one of each on. people make fun of him for that too.

drake doesn't have any headphones to drown out all of the outside noise. he just shuffles around, eyes staring holes in the ground, and always by himself. he never lets anyone get too close, because drake has a secret (or so he thinks): he's going to commit suicide one of these days. he doesn't want to hurt anyone, so he doesn't talk to a single soul for fear of pressing the stop button on his plans.

but drake can't really ever fully go through with his plan--he always chickens out. each night, as he stands facing his lopsided reflection in his dirty mirror, he takes the pills out of his cabinet. he's pressed the start button, and it's just such a habit. he takes out double the dose recommended (they're painkillers) and the small milky orange-red pills spill into his hand. he's about to down them all when his hand involuntarily slaps the stop button repeatedly. it's almost as if he's just spelling out a message for himself: i don't want to die, i don't want to die, i DON'T WANT TO DIE. it's cryptic and it's scary, and the little bits of death fly out of his hand onto the floor. he collapses in a tearful heap on the tiled bathroom floor to be heard by nobody. his mother has long since left his family, and his father is never home.

i don't want to live, he always says to himself. but i don't want to die, either.