Disclaimer: All characters are copyright me. No stealing.

(12/23/06)A/N: And once again, I’m revising this story. It needed some fleshing out, some character development, and a more determined plot (I was originally just writing the chapters as they came to me). Some chapters will remain mostly the same with just minor edits, some will be completely rewritten, and some will be all new.

Warnings: Homosexuality (male/male), cutting, pill popping, suicide attempts, depression, eating disorders, strong language, implied sex (involving minors), physical and mental abuse, destructive relationships, animal cruelty, dark humour, angst, and general wonkiness, some of which will include the occasional switch to first person POV. Thank you and have a good night.

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Suicide Blossom

by dysturbation

-prologue-

Have you ever just sat back and thought about life? About how the fuck you got here, wherever 'here' may be? Here, in this exact moment in time. How'd you get to this point? How the fuck did everything get so goddamn bad without you noticing?

Or maybe you just weren't paying enough attention, hmm? Maybe you were too busy trying to fuck things up that you never realized you'd succeeded. You'd really like to blame someone else for it, wouldn't you? That might be hard. You're the only one who's ever around for long enough to make any impact, because- dammit- you just can't get yourself to go away.

This is what wanders through my empty skull as I sit here, shivering under the cold drumming of the water on my back, staring at my bare wrists. My head feels heavy for being so hollow, but maybe it's just all the empty thoughts I'm thinking.

It's fascinating, actually, if you sit and watch long enough. You don't really notice the cuts at first, because the water keeps washing the blood away, but give them a few seconds and they'll start to leak red again And you'd think there wouldn't be much, really, since it seems like they aren't bleeding too badly, but then you'd have to notice the colour of the water sitting in the bottom of the tub with me and realize that I've got to be at least half dead already.

I suppose I could just sit here and watch it forever but I'm not sure I'll last that long. I've been sitting here long enough that all of the hot water is gone, but I can‘t quite bring myself to care.

Maybe that's why I'm sitting here asking myself these stupid fucking questions, musing over the colour blood turns when it mixes in with bathwater. Maybe it's because my friends have all realized what a waste of time I am and have finally given up on me. Maybe it's because my life is a complete failure, swirling down the drain with the rust-coloured water.

Maybe it's because I just don't give a fuck anymore. Or maybe I do, and maybe that's why. Maybe I've finally lost my last marble and tossed in with the other crazies.

Maybe... I really just don't care. Whatever.

How the hell did I get here, anyway?

-end prologue-