I don't like Mondays

I don't like mondays
Pumped up kicks
Famous last words
Edgar Allan Poe


1. I don't like Mondays


9th grade. They say everything changes now, but they’re wrong. At least for me nothing has changed. The ugly classrooms are the same, the boring teachers are the same, the gross cafeteria lunch is the same, and I’m the same. Still an outcast, still a freak, still utterly and completely alone. The thing is though, that I don’t actually mind being alone, I just wish people would leave me to myself, because when you’re alone the way I am, you’re not actually, literally alone. In school there’s the bullies, and at home there’s the internet trolls. If they would just let me be me, there’d be no problem, but they can’t stand the fact that I’m different. As soon as someone rises from the crowd, they’re pulled back in to be told how wrong it is. I wish, I could do the healthy thing and just ignore them, and tell myself, how I know, that I’m better than them. However, as Mr. Poe so wisely said, “words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality”, and it’s true, I am weird, and I don’t fit in. My only question is, how is that my fault? I didn’t ask to be this way.

I’m not even sure how it got so far, but I woke up, and the decision had been made. I know that my dad keeps a 9 millimeter in his room, because it makes him feel safer. Thank god for the second amendment. My parents have already left for work, which makes it so much easier for me to hide the gun in my bag and bring it with me to school.

It’s a typical Monday in a typical week. Nothing special, nothing exciting. I don’t like Mondays. I usually only just make it to school, before the bell rings, because I procrastinate getting ready. I’ve never been late though, because then my teachers would tell my parents, and then my parents would start asking questions, and I don’t need that. None of us do. It’s better if we just pretend nothing’s wrong. My parents live in their own world and sees me as this perfect angel with a perfect life. I know that they want what’s best for me, but I’ve become so good at hiding my feelings, that I don’t know how to stop, so they don’t really know what’s best for me. I guess that one actually is my fault. They don’t see, and they probably wouldn’t understand either. They wouldn’t understand how the only thing I want to do is to shoot the whole day down.

How is this supposed to go down? Do I just run in to a classroom and start shooting? I feel like I need some more build up than this, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. Despite how this might seem, I’m really not a violent person. The gun is now in my hand hidden under my hoodie. I raise my hand, and ask if I can be excused to go to the bathroom. My heart is beating faster than it ever has as I stop right in front of the door, turn around and reveal the gun. It takes a minute before the class realize what’s going on. A boy yells a warning, and I fire a shot through the window, which shatters. I run to the hallway and fire another bullet to the ceiling. The school is taken over by complete chaos. All the other kids better run faster than my bullet.

I’m blinded with rage, as I enter the cafeteria. I hear people crying, and see students hiding, but I’m too far gone to recognize anyone. I stop and feel the room. All eyes are on me, following my every move. Now I have the power, and everyone is fearing me. Under a table near me is a girl with whom I lock eyes with. I see the horror in her eyes, but I don’t care. The silence is deafening. The gun is loaded and ready for action, but am I? A sudden feeling of uncertainty hits me. What am I doing? The gun is pointed directly at her, she’s shaking now and so am I. I have my finger on the trigger, but I can’t get myself to do it. Suddenly I’m grabbed from behind, and someone is trying to get me down on the floor. The silence is killed by my screams and a loud bang. I manage to get myself free and sprint towards the door. Right before I run out I turn around to be faced by a horrible sight. The girl is lying on the floor with a large pool of dark red blood floating from her head down on the floor. What have I done?

I run to the bathroom and shut the door closed behind me. I almost collapse and have to support myself by grabbing on to the sink. As I look up in the mirror, a single tear rolls down my cheek. Am I actually crying? Am I really feeling sorry for myself? I killed someone, it’s not in my right to feel sorry for myself! I feel the gun heavy in my hand, and I slowly raise it up and place the tip at my temple. One move and everything will go away. All my regret and all my sorrow. Maybe Gerard Way isn’t afraid to keep on living, maybe he isn’t afraid to walk this world alone, but I sure am. Is this really how I wanted it to end though? In the hallway on the other side of the door I hear a heavy breath and footsteps getting louder and louder.  My finger begins to move even before I realize it myself. A girl enters the room, but stops immediately as she sees me. She stares at me with a terrified look on her face. I press my finger all the way down, and the last that I hear is a loud bang and a desperate cry for help. Whether it was the girl or myself, I don’t know. 

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