I Am Nothing

Brian was perched on the bars of the balcony of his hotel room. The bars that were supposed to cage you from gravity taking you over and sending you to a graceful fall that felt like eternity but only lasted about two short seconds. He sat without a tension in his body which made him even more probable to be swept away like a pedal of a flower in the wind.

For the teen had been in dire need of a simple hug. He's been sucked into depression, the claws kept scratching him as he ran, cut the ropes to the bridges he needed to cross just to get out of a mess he never wanted to be in. With the death of his parents weighing on his shoulders he was left alone in sorrow. To mourn to the blank, but smoke stained walls. To scream out cries to no one but the shining, twinkling, beautiful stars in the dreary, midnight sky.

The only things holding him down were the claws of depression, tearing and shredding his state of mind. It was so easy right now, though. To end the pain. To jump off the bars to the cage that were made out of shining steel, only to be hidden with the darkness of black paint. That's a good metaphor for all of this. It was all a mission, a quest even, to escape the cage that kept him secure in his own world of madness.

But could he really do it? Jump at his own free will to end a life that he was given. That would be selfish. But he couldn't take this. No one's down there to catch him if he falls. No one is alive enough to hear his silent screams. The internal screams that want to escape but refuse too.

The continued silence that he has to hear hurts his head. In all honesty, he could find no reason to live anymore. Each friend has left him for relationships, school or just flat out betrayed him. His family refused to take him in out of their cold-hearted natures and they said, “You don't spend enough time with us for us to even care about you, Brian.”

The clawing had only gotten worse over the years. “It's just a stage, Brian. You'll get over it. Everyone goes into depression.” Was the response he got when he told his parents about his on-going depression. The response he got from his brother was less than pleasant as well.

A harsh tone has overridden the boys voice as he aimed his attention to his younger brother Brian. His little brother. His big brother only has the audacity to say, “Get over it or just kill yourself already.”

Vigorous amounts of pills were the result of the claws and voices that filled his ears. Those voices were stinging in his skull, echoing through each vessel and vein of his body. Get over it. Get over it. GET OVER IT!

Brian's hands squeezed the crystal wine glass he had in his trembling hands with brute force until it shattered. Beautiful crystal sparkled as crimson blood dripped from Brian's calloused, but undeniably soft hands. The blood streamed over the crystal, masking it with a red color and a scent of copper.

Brian simply let the glass drop 20 stories down to the ground, dark red fluids dripping down along with deadly shards.

He looked at the wounds on his hands, more tears falling down from his gorgeously structured face. Though faded and messy eyeliner has taken over his half shut lids.

His eyes are bloodshot, the usually amazing mocha color didn't fill his eyes anymore.
It was more of a sulky, dull bronze. A bronze of beauty? Definitely not. A bronze of loathing, needing, despair. His eyelashes were now clumped, needing a good grooming along with his stringy, dark brown locks that rest upon his weary head.

The blood has clotted in his hand, seizing the flowing of the crimson liquid. Everything Brian loved crumbled beneath his feet and tossed him around like a ship caught in the eye of a storm.

“Everything I touch turns to ashes..” Brian whispered to the scars on his arms. “There was never any hope..” He said to the burns on his thighs. “I am nothing!” He screamed to the voices in his head.

“I...” He said. He swung his legs up and placed them back onto the concrete. He stood up fully, taking off his shirt and twisting the glass out of his hand in torture to himself and slashed it across his broad chest once. “Am..” Then again, he did it in the opposite direction. Nothing but a giant, bloodied 'X' remained on his chest.

He stepped up on the bars, his toes curling to keep his balance for a moment more. He shut those dull, bronze eyes and allowed gravity to pull him forward. Gravity ripped him from the claws of depression, broke him out of that cage of madness and killed the voices in his head.

His life flashed before his eyes and his lips pulled themselves into a tortured, pained smile.
“Nothing...”