He’s in pain. Mentally, he’s being tortured.

“He seems fine to me.”

To you, he may seem but if you look closer you will soon realize he’s broken

“But he’s just a boy. He’s got no broken bones, sprains or even fractures”

 You’re right. He doesn’t have any of those but it’s not him that’s broken. It’s his heart, his mental state. He thinks the only comfort he can find is in art.

“Art? What’s wrong with that?”

It’s not the art you think it is.

The art he makes will tear you apart.

The art he makes will make your heart feel broken.

The art he makes will tell his story.

The art he makes isn’t the same as you and I. His utensils, they are far from being normal. 

His brush is a blade sharp enough to pierce the skin without one feeling it. His wrists and legs are the canvas. His paint is the blood that drips from his wrists and thighs

His brush is forever stained with his crimson paint and his canvas is forever damaged never to be repaired again.

As said before, he is a criminal but he’s not going to jail for committing a crime, but he will confess and be freed but He is just a poor, impressionable child. Though somehow, it’s hard for him to go through with it.

He knows that if he does it then he can leave this god forsaken world and leave all his troubles behind and he may finally be happy, but he will also devastate the people who he thinks care and love him.

He doesn’t want to hurt any of them, but he can’t take the pain anymore.

“Why are you telling me all this? Does it look like I care?”

He’s heard those horrible words many times. Mostly because no one does care about his problems or broken heart. People ignore his cries as he sits in the hallway all because the words coming out of his mouth are “I’m okay” or “I’m fine”. Sometimes they don’t even bother to see if he really is okay even when they see tears streaming down his face.

You say you don’t care, you ask he seems okay so why bother?

But if it were you crying in the halls while people walked by taking pictures and laughing,

If it were you having countless nights without sleep due to contemplations on your very own existence, if it were you who had no hope left for your own life, if it were you who stopped eating only until you were hospitalized because you were so desperately trying to be skinnier

If it were only you who could feel this boy’s pain, then maybe you would change your mind and then maybe you will finally care.

He knows no one cares. That’s why he doesn’t try and vent to those very little amount of people who ask if he’s okay. He knows he’s not the only one feeling this way. He’s not selfish. He puts his own problems behind just so he can help the people he cares about most but no one manages to see that. They see a big baby whining about his own needs, they only see him crying out for attention. They never see him begging for what everyone else has.

He begs for Love.

Everywhere he goes that’s in sight. People in love, Families who love and care about one another.

Deep inside, he knows no one could ever love him. He thinks “I can’t imagine someone loving a mistake like me, even if someone did it would be fake.”

He knows he’s a mistake. All his life, he has been treated as though he was never wanted.

He constantly tries to forget about his broken heart and thoughts, but they always manage to creep in his head by the time the sun goes down.

He tries texting others, calling them even just to get his mind off things but he always manages to get the same response:

“Leave me alone, loser.” And with those words being said by those who he thought were close to him, he lies in bed, once again staining his pillow with the tears of a broken heart.

The thoughts of being alone bring back the contemplations.

He questions himself on why he can’t just do it and get it over with. He reaches for his brush, wanting to continue the art he has not yet finished but he hesitates. He knows he desperately wants to leave this hell, but he just can’t bring himself to do it but he tries once again.

He presses the blade against his wrist, just barely puncturing the skin and with one, deep swipe of the brush as droplets of paint flow from the gash he has created. He did it.

He escaped the torture.

He has gotten rid of all his evil and dark thoughts.

His damaged skin glows as though it has never been touched.

His broken heart no longer beats.

He lays to rest knowing the demented artist inside has completed the project.

He has died knowing he was never loved.

He has died knowing he was a disappointment to everyone he knew.

Despite all the torment, he died smiling with tears still falling from his eyes.

He was smiling because he knew someone loved him.

Smiling because he has finally knew the ones who deeply cared for him the most.

He was too blind to see it.

His family

They are the ones who loved him ever so deeply.

It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t see his struggles. He never managed to tell them or even show his emotional problems around them.

Now he realizes he had what everyone else had. He had love. His family loved him and that was all that mattered.

His mom, dad, brothers and sisters all loved him.

He opens his eyes, looking up at the ceiling he always sees in his bedroom. He’s still alive.

He never went through with it.

He never went through with it because he didn’t want to leave them behind. He loved them all ever so deeply.

He had survived.

It was a dream.

Every bit of torture was a dream. 

All the tears that were shed, all the thoughts of wishing he was dead, all the horrible cuts and scars on his wrists, all the terrible words that were said.

All those negative thoughts were all in his head

It was all a dream.

In the beginning, he was severely damaged mentally, physically and emotionally. In the end it turns out he really is perfectly fine. He never had lie about any of that because he had everything he ever wanted.

He had love, a terrific family, and friends.

He had friends who cared for him like his family would. His friends were by his side when he needed them. He was there too, when they needed him

He was a perfectly, imperfect teenager and that’s all he ever wanted to be.