Chapter 00 : Introduction

Having kids is the one mistake no one can take back.

I don't dislike a lot of things but parents have a special place in my heart. Not in a good way. I want to rip my heart out.

We are birthed fucked up, and our parents pin more fuck ups on us the more we grow up. It's like they're marking us as their little dolls;

"hey! Look! That's my manipulation!"

"Oh look! That's my self-hatred, I made it myself!"

I might be projecting, but it's okay if it's all in my head, right? Isn't that where no one can judge you? Your head? I can think and plan the sickest most fucked up shit and no one can say anything.

I can look at my mother and think; "I hate you. I wish you would die" and she'll continue to look at me with a smile.

I can look at my boss and imagine dismembering him but he'll continue to sign paperwork.

I can look at my brother and his girlfriend and imagine them miserable with a child, both contemplating walking out the door and leaving the other alone.

I can stare at the metro and imagine jumping in front of it.

I can think of dozens of ways to end it. Gore-y, painless, painful, quick, slow, easy, you name it.

It's the reason I don't keep any money in the bank, or have anything to my name. I want to be a burden to these bastards even after I die.

Funnily enough, for someone that thinks about death as much as I do. I don't really believe in it.

I don't have a reason not to believe in it either. Isn't it great how much moronic and weird shit you can get away with when you keep it all in your head? No one knows what's going on.

You can be a whole different person.

It's like I'm living a double life, yet my mother will still swear up and down that she knows me better than myself.

Almost like she hasn't been blessed with the gift of thinking.

It's Monday today, 9:02am.

Men are wearing their sleek black suits and women are wearing their tight pencil skirts.

They all walk rapidly, with a light jog on each step.

Men arguing on the phones as their jelled hair glistens at the sun, women are doing the same as they make sure their low buns are kept in place.

It's almost out of a movie, the beeping of cars and yells of taxi drivers, the cold air hanging out and about while ignoring the sun's heat perfectly. Birds are chirping and flying around the sky, like it's some sort of celebration.

When I was 16, I would wake up every morning so I could look out my little window in the attic. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘐'𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮

Rushing to work in my professional attire, and attending parties where only the elite go. Pretty men with strawberry lips and women with dark hair and matching eyes.

In winter I would fall in love with a blue eyed boy and in spring he'll break my heart, then summer will come and a brunette girl with henna covered fingertips will teach me how to break a heart and keep a piece, that way it would never heal. Then winter will come again; and a boy with brown eyes will come along, only to be heartbroken unable to heal.

And on Monday, I'll go back to work.

I'll live a year in every weekend and I'll leave a piece of me everywhere I go.

And then night would dawn on 16 year old me and the sky wouldn't have a single star left. The city's pollution had prevented them from appearing, or for any more trees to grow.

I'd go back to bed, only to wake up up at 9 again tomorrow.

And somewhere along those long days, I grew up.

I wasn't 16 anymore.

Somewhere along waking up at 9:00 and staying up till 2:00. I grew up.

And I wasn't 16 anymore.

I was one of the women with pencil skirts now. And none of my dreams came true.

I suppose they didn't realize they were supposed to morph into reality. I don't blame them, I'd want to stay stuck in a time loop too.

Today I turn 22 and it does not feel right.

I had always assumed that time wouldn't age me. I would circle between 15 and 16 for all eternity.

But this summer I'm 22, and it feels like I'm drowning.

Isn't it great? How no one can tell what you're thinking?

I'm standing in front of the metro right now and I'm wondering; should I jump?