Warnings: Depressive/suicidal thoughts, mentions of cutting, homophobia, bullying, physical abuse
I sometimes wish I had a reason to feel the way that I do.
I’m 17 years old and I want to die.
No one should want to die at 17.
Then again, I am Dean Winchester and I seem to be the go to guy if you need to beat the shit out of someone who won’t fight back. Hell, I don’t even know why I don’t fight back. Probably cause 99% of the people that take their swings at me tell me that if I do, they’ll go after Sam. And like hell am I going to let them lay one finger on my brother.
So I let them hit me.
I let them hit me and degrade me until the only words I hear ringing in my ears are “fag”, “queer bitch”, and “cocksucker”.
And then I made the ultimate mistake of falling head over heel for the school’s golden boy, Castiel Novak.
So here I am: 17, gay, suicidal, and in love with someone that will never even seem to realize that I exist.
Yeah, life is fan-fucking-tastic.
But as long as Sam stays safe, then it’s all good.
At least that’s what I tell myself when I pull out the razor at night.