There comes a point where being naïve is no longer an option. Being ignorant is no longer an excuse.

Having hope simply wasn't possible at the time.

Color had faded from the world around me. The obnoxious hair dye colors became obsolete and plain to me. The only thig that remained constant was blood. But even the life giving liquid started to lose its luster.

Then I fell into madness.

It was sharp and harsh totally unexpected but the outward change wasn't immediately obvious. But I adored the sight of murder and gore. A messy masterpiece of what could have been me. It wasn't suicide but it brought a rush of emotion that I hadn't felt in what might have been years.

I became aggressive and violent, my adoration leaking into everyday life. I became a walking emotional time bomb of hormones, stress, and depression. I find immense pleasure in watching you suffer no matter how small the issue may be.

I gave a low chuckle, practically husky as I dragged IT across her stomach. I could hear her heartbeat, as we lie with our legs tangled together in a very intimate position. A thin line of blood came leaking out a bit before I gave a slow lick savoring the moment and my tongue on her flesh.

She flinched, tensing up. Her heart beat faster, making me more excited. I want to tease her. Make her suffer in pain and pleasure.

Yes, indeed. I had fallen into madness. Did I mention this?


I grew up in a closed off environment never leaving the house but when I did leave it's surprising to see how much people are willing to hurt each other over a your mom joke. Unknowingly I had lived in the ghettos of my city so it couldn't be all that bad with the

doxxing defamation perjury prejudice racism discrimination corruption rape betrayal vengeance blackmail genocide slavery isolation torture stealing rioting

We live in a time of peace. There was little reason for me to be excited about anything.


I'm woken rudely from my nap. The strands of blood coming down the teachers face tells me that she's annoyed. An obnoxious teacher this one is. Why would you bother someone that's obviously sick and tired. No need to be constantly angry at the students who aren't interrupting.

It's as if she's always on her period. No wonder she's still single.

I don't ask her to repeat the question. So I answer, correctly. Before placing my head back down.

All is well. Or at least I thought so. I was actually failing her class. A surprising fact considering how much work I do in it compared to the others. I needed to stay after school sometime.

Of course there was more than a bit of foul play here. The most I could be penalized for is respect and participation, but by that logic everyone should be failing. I don't miss how despite being the cheerleading coach she just so happened to have all the other students won't bother us.

One couldn't miss the somewhat husky undertones she was leaving behind. Foul play indeed.

The younger generations are known for their... "my way or the high way" attitudes. It just so happened to be that my teacher was one of the first instigators of this unwarranted demand for respect. Even though I am part of that generation and could be considered just as arrogant for excluding myself.

"Are you even listening to me?"

I gave no response, thinking of other, more important, things. I'd rather not stand around listening to a teacher bitch about my sleeping problems. I'm aware that I have them.


I'm dizzy. I think my nose is bleeding. There might be some pooling in my mouth.

I'm woken rudely from my nap. The strands of blood coming down the teachers face tells me that he's annoyed. An obnoxious teacher this one is. Why would you bother someone that's obviously sick and tired. No need to bother the students who aren't interrupting.

If he keeps doing this I'm going to end up giving him more than gray hairs.

I'm given detention. I promptly threw up on him.

I guess there was some blood there.


It's the end of the day. And I have homework to do. I don't care.

I pass out on my bed closing my eyes and hoping for once, in my new red room that I can get some decent sleep.

My meds are failing me. Internal Clock in smithereens...

The music despite it's maddening tone relaxes my mind and rejuvenates my body. It was an apt description of my situation.

My eyes are stapled open wide, As I lay down on my side.

"I am bouncing off these waaa-aaa-aaa-aaals." I whisper quietly.

I can't sit still, with the night giving me so much life. But then the sun starts to rise. And quite easily I shut my eyes.

It's the weekend. My moment of reprieve.