I traded my hopes and dreams for a bottle of vodka and some cigarettes.
I guess you can say that's when things went terribly wrong.The late nights of verbal abuse at my innocent walls and the thick layer of smoke which lingered just below the ceiling of my room conjured a dark gloomy atmosphere.
I wasn't ready to give in to support groups and suicide hotlines. I wasn't suicidal or anything, just destructive.
I guess that can strike similar to some people. Although, there is a difference you know, because suicidal people aren't always destructive and destructive people are usually never suicidal.
There is a fine line between those two. Don't get them mixed up.
Suicidal beings can be self-destructive, an inner self mutilating nature as they slowly torture themselves with living until suicide. Their hopes and aspirations drowned by their inner sorrow and sadness. Over emotional you call them.
Destructive people on the other hand lack emotion. Their souls torn and devoured by the bitterness of living, but they're not sad. Some are born destructive.
Suicidal people usually feel too much.
Destructive people feel next to nothing.

I am a destructive person.

A/N: This is just an introduction to my story. Chapter 1 will be coming shortly. :)