Via Past; Via Present; Via Satellite

For DahliaJade's one shot contest: ipod shuffle kerfuffle

Lyrics:
Every Time I Die- No Son of Mine
"Leave your drunken accident at the prom, it'll grow to mend your broken heart."

I was never a Nostradamus; from past to present, I could never make predictions or contrive prophecies that would either effect my life or the life of someone else's. The type of person I was mentally branded as was one who did everything on instinct. All my mistakes happened rapidly, yet my triumphs were steady progresses that would, most of the time, burn out before they could ever come true.
If you ever knew me as a person; not one that you conversed with on a daily basis, or was always there when I needed something only another could give to me, and not someone who spent every waking hour by my side...
You couldn't be any of those people.

So bye friends; bye family; bye everyone.
The truth is that no one knew me as a person, not even me, because when the story was told about how my manicured nails were used as knives against my own face, we were all surprised...

Word Count: 9,929

ft. Matt Nicholls

DISCLAIMER: What type of story did I label this as? FanFiction, right?