This is fiction.
You can email me at ativan.wont.kill@gmail.com.
- indiemcemopants ------
I am a stupid fuck. What was I thinking? Why did I ever agree to this?
Oh right yeah. I didn't.
What they tell you is it's time to grow up. Be responsible. What they tell you is the best years of your life are over.
They don't have a fucking clue.
Here I am - me, the valiant hero of this little saga - trudging through the rain, shoes and the lower half of my pants soaked. Trying to make it inside my shitty little apartment with no carpet and a barely functioning air conditioner. The roof started leaking two days ago, but that's the least of my problems.
The rusted lock finally clicks open, allowing my entrance.
Wow, smells like mold. Fucking perfect, man.
Kicking off my shoes and throwing my books on the couch, I make my way over to the cluttered computer desk. Fuck, I really need to remember to clean this shit up.
Messages.
I was gone for less than an hour but I have messages.
I hit play.
"This is your final notice. You are past due on..." Click.
"Hey, bro it's me! I just wanted to.." Click.
"Hi, son, it's been three we-" Click.
I don't need this shit right now. Leave me alone today, mom. Okay? Thanks.
Give me a break. I suppose I can't really blame them. It's been nearly a month since they heard from their dearest son. It's just funny how they act like they care. Force me out of their house into this shitty place that's barely standing and then act all concerned.
It's pretty typical of them.
They said it's not that I'm gay.
"It's not that you... you're... gay, son. Really. We just think it's time. It will be good for you. We... love?... you."
I kid you not. They had to ask. Well, sort of. But you get the idea.
So now I'm here. Alone.
Did I mention it smells like a dead body in here?
It turns out that if you want to avoid calling your parents, sleeping helps. I've been doing a lot of that lately, Sleeping. Like nineteen hours a day. I used to be such a happy boy. I wonder what happened to that. Now I'm stuck sleeping, hoping the nightmares will stop. Hoping to escape this shit for as long as possible. And avoiding my parents. My sweet, loving, fake parents.
I swear to god there's nothing worse than trying to talk to those people. Trying desperately, hopelessly to fill the void of silence with fucking something. Wishing they'd give me something to go on. There are times I wish I could just blow my fucking brains out.
It's that uncomfortable.
It turns out that avoidance is a perfect idea.
I've really gotta hurry up. And this rain needs to stop. I'm supposed to get the rest of my books today for classes next week, but there's no way I'm going out again in this shit.
My cell phone beeps. Oh great.
The text message says: "Go get your books, now. I just called and it closes in half an hour."
Well, fuck. My nosy mother is really interfering with my laziness here. Mind your own damn business. Sigh. Guess it's time to get moving. Luckily, I managed to find a place near the bookstore and two blocks from the school. I don't know how much longer my car will be running so it's good to have another option.
Thunder. Then lightning, as I jerk my hand away from my door.
Then again, I won't be walking in this shit.
Once at the bookstore, I pull my jacket over my head and run toward the door. At this point, my fucking jacket was just for show anyway. I'm already soaked. Thanks for the help, really.
I'm muttering under my breath, padding through the store. Tracking in dirt and water.
Christ, I look like a douche.
It's no wonder the old lady at the checkout is staring at me in what is either a confused or motherly way. Or both. I can't tell and I'm on a mission. I don't want to stick around this place. I glance around. Rows of old bookshelves line the store, divided into "new" and "old" sections. It looks like the carpet has been replaced recently and the walls repainted. I'm guessing this place makes a lot of money from all the kids coming in to buy expensive books.
It smells like coffee in here. I like it.
The old lady with her white hair and her droopy face says, "Hi, sir, do you need help? I'd be glad to..."
I interrupt, "No. Got it. Thanks."
Really don't want to talk to people. Please understand, it's not you, it's me.
Well actually it's probably you, but anyway.
Now I'm hurrying. Walking so fast I almost slip on the water pouring off my pants and shoes onto the floor below me. I almost can't see because the fucking stuff is pouring off my dark hair into my eyes and off my chin.
Christ.
I need to get out of here. I look like an idiot.
A few minutes later, I've gathered the books I need and I'm checking out.
Just so you know: I already feel stupid enough.
Just so you know: you don't have to fucking stare at me. I know. I'm soaked. I look pissed and I'm probably pouting. I'm aware.
Fuck off.
I grab my books and turn around quickly to get the fuck out of there.
It doesn't work out that way.
Something you should also know: I'm a pretty big guy. Muscular. Tall.
If you're gonna be a skinny little dude, pay the fuck attention to what you're doing.
Dude didn't see me coming. Next thing I know this tiny, thin person is on the floor. Jesus, I didn't know people that skinny would sound like that when they fall down. Well, this is embarrassing. Now the lady is looking at me again like she's about to call security. Yeah, that's right. I started a fight. With this tiny dude.
Right.
This guy is still on the floor. He's just looking down like, what the fuck? What do I do now? There is no need for this person to be this shaken, this dumbfounded from bumping into me. Or me bumping into him, whichever.
And he's in my fucking way. Did I mention that? His tiny, wiry body is sprawled out right in front of me, taking up the aisle.
I want to leave.
"Dude..." I say, quietly.
"DUDE!" Louder.
He jumps and tentatively glances up at me.
"Um... I'm.. I..."
"Get up," I say.
"Now." I say. Nothing. He just sits there. Stares dumbly at me. I'm pretty sure he knows how to stand up and walk.
I glare at him.
"Look" I spit out. Reaching out and grabbing his arm, I force him upward into a standing position. He continues to stare at the ground. He won't look at me.
Annoyed, I tense up. I let out a frustrated sigh that sounds like a growl. He jerks his head upward; his bright green eyes meet mine.
"S-sorry.. si- Um, dude. Here." He steps out of the way. Okay, that was weird. Some people.
I finally leave the store and head back to my place.
Time to go back to sleep.
--
There will be more later. I don't know when, as this was sort of random. I have no idea where it's going.
Also this is my first gay-themed story.