John Paul O'Callaghan is ready. Ready for a day filled to the brim with joy and fun. A pretty little woman locked in his sights and a magnitude of beauty rubbing off her portrait. An appointment to the Doctor's he'd been trying his all time hardest to get. Got. A period of peace instilled into the house of hell that is his place of stay. Life seems to be improving. Life is never easy but who ever said it was? Struggles, stress, suffocation, suffering, silence and social anxiety. These are the very terrifying things Mr. O'Callaghan encounters during his journey of life. People can relate but it's one thing he cannot seem to grasp within his demons inside him that he is battling. He likes people and hates people. People experience problems but the light bulb in their head requires power. John Paul would be as foolish as the local skeet that lurks around the Bus Depo if he blatantly and bluntly said "People don't have problems." We are all human, we are all stressed and we all get on with life but sometimes enough is enough. Sometimes you snap and sometimes people get hurt. Mentally hurt. Broken bones are curable but a broken head is fatal. "You are your own worst enemy" Never have I ever heard truer and wiser words.

Every. Single. Day. I proceed on foot to school and feel like a wolf trying to fit in with the crowd of sheep. My headphones is the force field between me and the sheep. It pumps in a beautiful sound and blocks out a nasty noise. A noise of everyday life. The noise of people and the noise of society. To the normal people it's just another day. To John Paul, it's another fight. A fight against his inner demons. A fight that blurs his eyesight of people. A fear that cripples confidence and encourages hate. The sheep scare him. He fears what he cannot understand. If there was an exam on people and their everyday life he would get a big fat "F". But John Paul can turn to his father for guidance right? Wrong! The barrier of silence is installed between himself and his creator.

This creator is not God. He is Satan. The father of evil. My mother was once an angel. Pure and innocent. Now tainted and clipped. A fallen angel that cannot fly away from Satan's influence. Satan is the master manipulator and has the power to grant people the dark cloud of negativity that is depression. My fallen angel suffers from bipolar disorder. All thanks to Satan. My brother and sister consume anti-depressants. Thanks to Satan. I feel a piece of him in me and on instinct his persona controls my actions. There's absolutely no chance in hell Satan will pass the keys to the kingdom to John Paul O'Callaghan. I forbid it. Forbid it by willpower and support. Satan attempts to crawl into my ear but I am deaf to his words. I detect them but do not listen.

One day, as I travelled through the unforgiving and freezing frost in winter to school he pulled up to me in his demon cart. The Mercedes. He broke the barrier of silence by asking me

"Are you going to St Paul's?"

I refused to answer his plea for my acceptance and the most evil laughter of all time replied.

"Enjoy walking to school!". He speeded off with a trail of smoke and flame following him.

This is my father everybody. A weak little boy that thinks he is the man. A weak little boy that thinks it is acceptable to add fuel to the fire on my everyday struggles. A weak little boy that should be a strong mature man talking to me and helping me out. Instead, he lowers my self esteem and tries to burn my confidence to the point of ash. He controls my sweetheart of a mother and degrades her to his personal maid instead of the lovely woman he loves and wishes to spend eternity with. He refuses to pay for the actions he carried out against myself, my brother and my sister. A real father would but he's not my father anymore. I don't feel hate, I don't feel anger and I don't feel sadness. I feel nothing and that is worse than feeling something. In the past he was my father, in the present he is nothing and in the future he will continue to be nothing to me. He is a fly trapped in a house. The only way for a fly to go away truly is if it dies.

That is exactly how John Paul feels. John Paul is waiting for the day Satan's heart stops beating. John Paul is waiting for the day life ends for Satan because he is nothing but nuclear waste to the gorgeous Earth we all live on. John Paul would never ever kill a person but time is the biggest killer there is and time favours me over him. I am 18 years old. I have the entire world in front of me. He is 53 years old. He drives taxis for the corrupt company "Taxi-line", smokes cigarettes like a chimney and shuts his eyes at night on a sofa. Time is of the essence and time can go quicker and quicker and quicker until...nothingness. I'll proceed onto another platform in life and you'll just be another deceased demon rotting six feet under.

Hell, you don't even deserve to be buried in this magnificent planet that is mother Earth. You don't even deserve to be cremated. You deserve a fate worse than death. A punishment for all your crimes committed to me and my family. You deserve to live longer. You deserve to live longer because death is the easy way out of a short and sorrowful life. You deserve to get to the point in life where you cannot feel you can carry out tasks by your sorry self. You deserve to lie in pain and regret on a hospital bed surrounded by nobody but your own mistakes. So you can dwell on them and cry. You deserve to place your vision to outside the hospital window to gaze at me and my brother and sister's success. You deserve to see that sight not to be proud but to be jealous of. As you pass on back down to hell I'll stay up here on Earth and do what I do best with my life. Writing.