I often find myself sitting in the corner of the room, staring into the dusky black abyss. I wonder why no matter how hard I try, how much I want, I can not fit in.

I’m an outcast. The kid that sits at the table in the back of the cafeteria because nobody else wants to.

My only reason on this god-forsaken universe is to be of help to others.

I sometimes walk on the side of the road and think about what would happen if I.. fell. If I stayed there, unable to move, unable to be helped, to be saved.

I’m walking here right now. My raven hair moving in the direction of the wind. My too long pants being ripped more and more each step I take.

I walk until the soles on my shoes are destroyed. Until I can feel the pain and I’m sure that they’re bleeding. Then, I stop, but not really.

Mentally, I’m still walking. Still letting my feet hurt and bleed because I don’t care. I don’t care what happens to me.

I close my eyes and imagine myself on the top of a tall mountain, yelling at the world, them being able to finally hear me. The second I open them again, I’m suddenly in the middle of the road, in front of a car that’s driving faster than it should be, like it’s doing it on purpose, it’s only reason is to end my life.

I’ve never been afraid much of dying.. In fact, I’ve prayed for this exact scenario to happen. But, something is different now. I don’t want to die right now. There’s something different about death when you’re not expecting it.

I cover my eyes with my hands and await my fate. I can feel the car hit my body and crush it completely. I can feel the exact moment my life is taken from me. I can see it too.

Now laying on the hard ground, I reach upwards towards my own soul, begging for it to come back. It doesn’t. It leaves, just like the car that hit me, it leaves like I’m nothing. A piece of garbage that they couldn’t care less about.

And, maybe it’s this that makes me so angry I’m able to stand up again. Maybe it’s embarrassment. Whatever it is, it’s strong and it lifts me up back onto my feet.

I turn to the car which is still driving away. Not even sure what I’m doing, I lift my hand and squint my eyes, stopping it. Then, I crush it with my pointer finger and thumb.

When it’s a tiny ball of metal, I stop. I stop and walk away. Alive, or dead. I’m not sure which one. I just know that this won’t be the last time someone gets what they deserve.