7th November 1997
Sometimes just sometimes I feel like finding my dad�s gun, turning off the safety and shooting myself between the eyes. Sometimes I wonder why my parents have put up with me for the past 15 years, just so they could yell at me and drive me to an early death at age sixteen. That thought was the center thought in my thought-full head. I was becoming suicidal as I was at fourteen.
�Beauty is from within,� teenage boys in the 90�s see that differently. Such people like that, need to be shot. Men who marry Kate Moss or Pamela Anderson just because they are 35% silicone and 50% plastic, and their blonde roots explain their obvious stupidity.
As I made my way for my dad�s dresser, the air was getting thinner in the room. �Third drawer with polo shirts, under the green one. Bullets under the underwear, first drawer.� I kept repeating. I opened the third draw, and saw the green polo shirt. I lifted it up.
Gone.
I needed a new idea, and a quick one. Ah-ha. The kitchen is fully stocked with knives. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Just then, the backdoor opened. It was my mother. Rage burned inside me.
Her corpse lay on the ground. I plucked the keys from her blood hands, �Goodnight sweetheart.� I said to her as I ran out the door. I hoped in her �96 Lexus and I drove off, never looking back. I came to a dead end where twenty men were working.
�Where might I be?� I asked.
�You�re in Phoenix,� the worker said.
I smiled, �I�m 15, I just killed my mother, and I don�t know how to drive. Yet I�m in Phoenix?�
�Yep.�
I grinned evilly and took off. Who knows if those workers believe me, but I�ll get away with it, if they tell, I�ll kill them.
(Just so you people know. None of this was based on actual fact. My mother is still very much alive. My father has never owned a GREEN polo shirt� I never knew of a gun hidden under clothes in my father�s dresser� My family never owned a Lexus� We are Ford people. But when I was fifteen, I had serious issues with the whole, �beauty is on the inside� and depression�)
