You Can't Make Decisions

This is a creepypasta based on a song.

Song: I Can't Decide



Dear Hailey J, The One who Came to Town,

I was living in this simple town. Had some friends and all. Had a dead beat job, but that doesn't matter. I was happy. Staying at the bars until 1 in the morning was the life I wanted.

Then you came to town.

Ever since you came, it isn't easy having myself a good time anymore. You were always outshining me, taking the stage, greasing up those bets and betters for your own self.

You took my friends away. You even insulted me right to my face. Threw a punch, missed, then fell over drunk. You think you have friends. But they don't four letter, just let me tell you.

I feel ashamed that when we were drunk at one point, we well... did it. You know what I mean, you back stabbing jerk.

I even left you at one point.

My parents kicked me out after I just moved back in. My girlfriend left me. I changed ever since you came. You ruined me. I was gone from the bar for an entire year.

One day while hung over, I realized that my life sucks still. I was depressed. I cut my self everywhere there is. Drank more beer. Even considered going to a hospital or passing out at the junk yard. That's where my life is anyway.

The one moment one day when I became sober, I remembered you. How you took my friends away. How you took my fame in the bar away. I realized that I left you alone for too long.

It smelled like something I forgotten, and it curled up, died, and now it's rotten.

Listen, I'm not going to be a gangster tonight. I have other nights to do that. I don't want to be the bad guy either, but I'm afraid I'm taking you home with me.

As I drag your drunken body and soul to my car, I told you how much I hate you. I drove home, you knocked out. Your breath smelled of death and desperate attention. Heh, fits you so well.

At home I tied you to a chair and duct taped your mouth. The look on your face... Heheh, priceless as you slowly realized what was coming. I told you this would happen.

Listen, I'm just a loner baby. I have nobody to love and loved by nobody. I want friends, but they have been taken away. I tried to be happy, but you've gotten in my way.

I can't decided whether you should live or die. You'll probably go to heaven, I mean I seen you at church every Wednesday and Sunday, so please don't hang your head and cry.

Don't wonder why my heart feels dead inside. Because of you and beer it's cold, hard, and petrified. I'll lock the doors and close the blinds. Baby, we're going for a ride.

It's not easy convincing people to like you. I had to strip bare naked, slug tens of hundreds of drinks and not get pickled, and dancing jigs until I'm crippled to be liked. I keep trying still to be liked. It was too easy for you. If I stop now call me a quitter. You told so many lies about me. If cats were lies baby, you'd be their litter.

I tried pleasing everyone, even you. No body is ever pleased. My parents aren't even pleased of me. But that isn't like you to please everyone.

I cut your arm right here out of anger. The tears in your eyes make me smile. The blood drips onto my kitchen tiles. It looks beautiful. I cant help but to touch it with my fingers and smell it. Smells like wine. Figures out of you.

Hey, I've got to hand it to you. You've played by all the same rules. You did everything I did. The same people liked you. You drank the same brand of beers and wines and played just as much of pool as I did.

You tried to look and act the way others want. But let me tell you, it takes the truth to fool me. It really does. But the way you acted towards me, it made me angry.

I still can't decide whether you should live or die. I pull out a whiteboard and marker from a drawer. I then proceed to cut your face. Ear to ear. You try to scream again. I smile as you do. You struggle. I went to go get some cleaning supplies, and then insert the liquid into your wounds. You scream and struggle while I laugh and fall over slightly drunk.

On the whiteboard I come up with ways to kill you. I could throw you in the lake. No, I wont be able to see you suffer if you sink. I could feed you some poisoned cake. No, too silent a death. I could bury you alive, but you might crawl out with a knife, and come kill me while I'm sleeping, so, I can't decide.

I decided to drag you to the junk yard. Where I would decide to drug her and repeatedly stab her with a knife. "You won't do this anymore to me," I say as she has her arms ripped off. I shove the knife down her throat. "Shut up!" I scream as she does the same. She lies there, motionless, but still has a heartbeat.

"Drink up." I say as I mix beer and cleaning solution and pour it down her throat.

This is what will happen to you, maybe. I still can't decide babe. Run if you can.

-From John A, the one who you kicked to the curb