As human beings we cannot change the inevitable. And yet we try anyways. We try to stop death. In that way, I run against the crowd. Because I welcome it. Everyone on this planet has fears, no matter how they try to hide them. Except for me. I'm not normal in case you haven't guessed.
I don't know when they thought really hit me. I've simply always known deep down that I was different, special. I've always been an outsider, that odd person who is best avoided. I must admit, it's a very lonely existence. But I guess that I work better alone, as an individual. I'm a natural born leader, but others would never follow someone like me. I refuse to be a follower though, so I run my own way. I am like a lone wolf, forbidden to lead the pack, and not willing to follow, so I have been exiled.
It's like an unspoken agreement. I have few who love me, and I have been separated from them. I have many who hate me, and I am forced to endure them much of the time. And those who I love, well, it's hard to explain. I trust no one completely, and very few with small secrets. I have been betrayed too many times and so I am wary.
I've found lately that I'm changing. I used to be that obnoxiously happy girl who ran through life without abandon. Now I wake up every morning hesitantly, unwillingly, wondering why I should even get out of bed. I used to never get into trouble. I avoided it at all costs. Now I have no fear of consequences. I backtalk authority, challenge what others say, welcome fights. I encourage anger to take me away and make me strong, because it's a relief from the sadness and loneliness.
I don't cry. Not anymore. I used to, but now I have to be strong and stay on my feet, or I'll never get back up. If I show any sign of weakness everyone around descends upon me like ravenous beasts to rip me apart. I don't know why they shun me, which vexes me more than you can imagine. I told you that I'm special. Well, I wouldn't lie about that, although I have lied too much lately. I feel the emotions of others, and most of the time I understand them. I sense things coming before they happen. Things, people, they come to me in dreams, and I will find in the next few days that these dreams, these visions will come true.
As I said, I've found that I've changed. I dress differently, wearing darker colors, different styles. I sometimes see a stranger with cold, hard eyes, and wonder, 'Who could that be?' only to realize that I'm looking into a mirror. My personality has made the most striking changes though. I've aged. I realize that when I felt so grown up, I was nothing but a child playing make-believe. I snap at people who used to be my friends, annoyed by their childishness. When I look at the faces of my peers I no longer see equals, but kids trying to grow up. And it is them mainly, who have done this to me.
I've become more of a rebel. I used to be completely content following the rules. Now I test the limits, break them. I hang out with stoners and troublemakers, people I used to wrinkle my nose at. I never would have expected to be in such company. I've found that they are really the only ones who will fully accept me for who I am; an outsider.
I keep more secrets now then I thought possible. I also tell many, many more lies. Lies to protect my secrets. Lies to protect my reputation. Lies just for the thrill of being able to lie. Lies surround me like a dark cloud, and sometimes I feel that I am suffocating. One of my biggest secrets comes in the form of a blade. My own blood enchants me. The color, the taste makes me go into a frenzy, my own personal drug. I cut for the pain, to escape emotion. I cut for the pleasure, the ritual I have made my own.
Sometimes I hear the old me crying out of the darkness, hoping someone will hear her, save her. I try to quiet her, and sometimes I wish to rid myself of her. But I know that without her, there is no me. I could not have gotten to where I am without her, so I simply try to keep her quiet. Because she wants to spill my secrets. She wants to get help for this disease she seems to believe I have, this problem. She thinks that the blade does me too much harm, that I will go too far.
In some ways she could be right. But I can never tell. I can never give in. I can never show weakness. I am who I am, and the world has made me that way. Other could never understand this darkness inside, this animal, this monster I have become. But what have I to fear anymore? I don't fear death, and death is what rules this planet of ours. So I have defeated death itself, not by avoiding it, but by embracing it. For death must be better than this life I have been living. Or can this existence even be called living?
And so I take a deep breath. I prepare to take it all the way. To prove I am different. To make them all see what they have done. They are the ones who will be guilty of my murder. They are the ones who will say my name in whispered tones filled with awe. They are the ones who will feel regret grip their hearts like an ice cold, iron hand, because they will realize that they killed me. I am not afraid.
I close my eyes slowly, savor the taste of the fresh air, listen to the wind whisper to me, and with arms spread like wings I take one single step. The air rushes around me, caressing my falling form. Voices rush through my mind. Harsh words, soft words, emotionless words all run together to create a sort of chaos, like a storm. If this is a storm though, then I must be in the eye where all is peaceful and calm. The faces of the few I loved flash through my mind, and I think, 'they may never have loved me, and if they did, they won't miss me too much. They will soon heal'.
I wait for the sudden impact. I wait to hit the ground. They won't know where I've gone. When they find my body, bruised and broken it will be far too late. They will never be able to apologize for what they've done. In some ways I am protecting them from what they have created. The monster in me screams for blood, and I have sacrificed my own for them. I have spared them. And they will never even know.
As human beings we cannot change the inevitable. And yet we try anyways. We try to stop death. In that way, I run against the crowd. Because I welcome it.