Kill All Your Friends

I walked in my house, and the louder yells filled my ears. The noise came from the direction of the kitchen as I walked into the first room of the house, the living room. There was black sideways couches that pointed toward a TV. The TV was rested on top of a brick fireplace. Picture frames full of smiling people, including my parents and their old friends. I remember years ago the house was full of laughter and conversations around a small homemade poker table. My parents would invite their friends over for a poker game and that turned into hours of non-sense conversations, cheesy jokes and strange words I didn't understand at my age. I miss those memories, and I wish my parents would do that again, it seemed to make them happy and it would be a break from their never ending fights and abuse.

I looked over at the kitchen door on the right wall after I carefully closed the door behind me. I decided I should lock myself in my room before they realize that I am here. So, I did just that. I ran up the stairs that were against the wall straight ahead of me, some worn out steps whining under my weight. Once I got to the top I went an automatic left to get to my room.

I slid my back against the door until my butt hit the floor with a sigh of relief. I wanted to be by myself, and I didn’t want to go to school tomorrow. Tomorrow is gonna be just like every other day in the life of me, and I don’t want another day like that. I dreamed of getting out, running away. How I would have my own freedom, and do things my way. The thought of driving until the sun rises, just to park upon a hill and watch the sky turn from navy to pink, to blue, to remind myself that another day will rise, just as I had. The beautiful thoughts of the stars in the night sky filled my head as I sat there, my butt on the hardwood floor and my back against my poster filled door, matching the rest of the room. I was in my escape, craving that wind through my hair and the sure signs of freedom as the city signs pasted. I liked fantasising of what life would be life because I wanted to live anything but a life standing still. I mean everyone dies, it’s inevitable. But half living- that’s what I’m terrified of. I wanted to be free, have my own money and job I chose for my own daily life. I couldn’t wait till’ that lonely birthday when I turned 18. It was close, but yet so far.

Stomps up the stairs interrupted my thoughts, I looked up to my door. The handle was flipped to unlocked and I reached up to lock it. I sighed, as I let my body go limp. I waited there, my back against the wall still, waiting for someone to bother my peace. No one came to knock on my door, or yell at me through the thin wood. After a while I decided to lay on my bed, I laid sideways looking at the familiar posters on my right wall. My bed was a single bed on the floor, which I decided I wanted it when I got sick of falling off of my high bed frame. I had a low table next to it holding a lamp, and an alarm clock that glowed obnoxiously bright. I had a book shelf on the wall opposite to the door. There was a small window above my bed that held my small treasured nick-nacks. I'm front of me didn't have much, a medium sized amp, my treasured Pansy and a cheap bass that I played every once in a while leaned up against the wall and amp itself. I stared at the metallic light lettering on my guitar. I loved Pansy, she was the thing who has always been there for me.

I got up and plugged in the input cord to my amp and guitar, sitting down with Pansy on my lap. I strummed a G chord, and realized I hadn't turned on the amp, I got up and did so. I spent hours playing. I played different lead guitar lines from my favorite songs and some of my own made up riffs. I played until I saw the sky getting bluer, only to put my guitar back and watch the sunrise. I opened my window, got out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag and feeling the familiar black feeling in my lungs. I only smoked two cigarettes before I decided to get up and take a shower.

I turned on the faucet, the cold water turning into a melting warmth. I loved how the boiling water felt as it ran over my skin. I felt my legs turn to jelly and almost to the point of buckling under me, so I sat. The warm water a little cooler than it was at first. I finally got up, lazily and washed myself. Once I was done I only looked at myself when I put the thin layer of eyeliner I usually put on. I hated my reflection. My long black hair went right above my shoulders, and I was incredibly short. I hated my height.

I stood there a bit before getting back to my room, raiding the closet for some relatively clean clothes. I chose my favorite misfits shirt. The soft fabric laying against my skin. As I looked for clothes I found myself thinking about Gerard. His confidence sending me goose bumbs once again. I went out the door starting my walk with my favorite black skinnies, striped hoodie and misfits shirt.

Notes

Ugh, Warped Tour is in my state, the last of the summer and I can't fucking goooooo......
I want tooooooooo
Would-be first warped tour and my parents fucking ground me that weekend.
Mother fuckers...


xoxo Death Obsessed