Still Not Getting Any...

My life could revolve around a Simple Plan album.
I looked up as the door opened. My older brother, Kyle, stumbled through the front door, drunk. Again. I sighed and returned to my magazine. I was home alone, my mother and my stepdad, Michael, were in Sydney, and my little brother, Jarmin, was staying at a friend’s house. Obviously, I thought it would be great. Me and Kyle, home alone. Fabulous. For the first ten minutes. Over the last day I was feeling increasingly lonely. It was fantastic and terrible at the same time. Terribly fantastic. Fantastically terrible. How? Who knows.
Pierre’s voice filled the loungeroom.
"You don’t know what it’s like…
Welcome to my life"
Welcome to my life. Welcome to hell. This song could sum up my life. Every day was like this, every day was miserable. Horrible. It was hell. I shifted my position slightly and the leather made its peculiar noise below me. The horrible noise that often woke my mother up when I was attempting to stay up late. It was impossible to sit on that blue leather couch and not make noise. I hated it.
The next song came on.
"So thank you for showing me
That best friends cannot be trusted
And thank you for lying to me
Your friendship, the good times we had
You can have them back"
There it was again. Simple Plan was describing my life. I hated that they could do that. I sighed again, I had been sighing a lot lately, why? I threw my magazine across the room and watched it spin through the air, coming to rest at the foot of the opposite wall, pages falling out, Quinn Allman’s head folded in half. I got up slowly and walked down the cold tiled hallway, reaching the end, where my room was. The small Dark Horse Comics logo I had stuck on there caught my eye every time. I turned the cold metal knob and stepped into my cluttered room. Tripping over a few things, I crossed the floor to my desk, and the computer where I spent most of my time on. I switched on the monitor, not bothering to turn my light on, I liked the dark anyway.
I spent most of the time I used on my computer writing stories. Tonight, I attempted a few pathetic sentences before giving up completely.
Don’t wanna think about my sorrow
"Let’s go
Forget your problems
I just wanna jump"
I sat on my bed and thought about that song. It sounded like he was talking about suicide…
No. No. He wasn’t. I couldn’t believe I had thought that. Then again…
I sat on my bed and read for a while. All of a sudden I didn’t feel like reading…I felt alone, so, so alone. That horrible feeling where you feel like you’re invisible. The room was spinning, my head mind reeling, I was eyeing the sharpener on my desk. The blade seemed all to friendly…