Why Do You Think

Why was I here? What am I even doing? What is the point of all of this? I want a drink, but they won't let me. I hate this place; why did I even sign up? Oh that's right, I was pressurized in to doing it.
Life has just become an obstacle that I struggle to get over. Everything would be much simpler if I could just end it. I want to end it, but they wont let me. They are forcing me to keep living, to keep enduring this irritation, this thorn that has wrapped itself around me.

The pressures of society didn't affect me to this extent, to make myself endure this strain, this stress, but what did affect me was that even the people I hold closest to my heart thought I needed serious help. They themselves didn't bother listening to my problems, they didn't know that it was all I needed; for someone to listen. Sure, it wouldn't have stopped my drinking problem, but I'm sure that it would have helped to some extent, at least it would have helped with my depression, I think.

I watched as the pictures changed on the screen; my focus was indirect making my vision unclear, but staring at the light was just something to do. But I'm not doing anything apart from dying of boredom. Oh, if only that was possible. But that would be a boring way to die. Ha ha, see the joke? Well, I don't, because my whole life is a fucking joke.

I need a drink, but they wont FUCKING LET ME! The only thing I can resort to is smoking, at least they haven't taken that from me.

"Can I have a lighter?" I call out to the staff as I take out a cigarette from the small box, placing it in my mouth, and inhaling once it is lit. It soothed me to some extent, but it didn't give me the satisfaction of having liquor burning down my throat. Letting my mind float, letting my thoughts leave me. The taunting voices hush, and the darkness that has been biting me retreats.

Everyone in this place is fucking mental, especially Frank. Why do I hang out with him? I honestly don't know. I was forced in to sharing a room with him, and he has latched on to me like a lost puppy. Isn't he supposed to be a psycho? But that's probably why.

For the first few weeks I had tried many ways of getting rid of him; I tried anything humanely possible, which also got me in that fucking rubber room, or whatever the fuck you call it, a couple of times. So I just gave up. It wouldn't make a difference no matter what I did, I just let him do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Over the course of time I began to get used to him, it didn't seem natural anymore if he wasn't there, because he was always in my line of sight, whether I liked it or not.

Jesus fucking Christ, I hate my life.

-----Frank's POV-----

One day I will get out of this place, the faster the better, along with Gerard. First thing I will do is wipe my parents off the face of the earth, and every other relative I know. They will feel a bit of what I have felt these past years. Oh, I will make sure of that.

I will never forgive them for what they have put me through; the endless sedatives and awkward nights spent with my arms being forcefully wrapped around me. The uselessness I would feel had no end. The irritation was strong enough for me to want to kill someone. If only I had the chance.

Next I will move on to an island of my own, with no one else apart from Gerard, he will be the only other person allowed on there, and maybe, just maybe even Austin, but I still have to think about him. I'm not sure if I will really want him there, but it would be fun I guess.

Somewhere along the way I will just take over the world; these pathetic human beings need a leader, to stop all of these wars and to have peace once and for all. What does war bring anyone apart from death? Nothing, exactly. So, I have concluded that the whole world needs to be ruled under one leader, and that special someone should be me. I am perfect for that position! There will be no wars, no disputes, and as long as they don't question my power they can do whatever the fuck they want as far as I care. I will keep the world from overpopulating, and lessen the pollution. Grow more trees, save more animals etc. etc.

Oh but how I want to see the warm colours of a body run cold. How I want to see the life force leave a body. To see how quickly the windows to their soul become empty, their eyes glossy as if made of glass. Their limp body sucked dry from colour. No breathing. No blinking. No movement. The perfect being.

I have had the joy of enjoying this thrill once, and I'm not going to let that be the last. The power I felt was unbelievable. I was in full control, I had the choice of letting them live or die. I felt a moment of importance, that in this situation I was the centre of attention, even if by just one person. They were completely focused on me; watching every move I made. It made me feel good.

The bell rang, reminding us that it was time for our meds; I didn't need them, I was completely sane and my brain was functioning well. I was perfectly capable of leaving this place and living on my own, but no, they have to keep me here just like in a prison. The only reason why I actually do take my meds is because if I don't, I will be sedated and locked away. That is how bad it gets.

I'm not the one who is fucked up, it's them.