Drama

Eh, I don't even know. Felt like writing a story.

It's not that I don't have a heart or anything. It's not inhuman that my first instinct is to get the hell out of there when I find my roommate, all slouching all bleeding all over the couch. The thing is I'm terrified of blood. Just the sight of it makes me want to puke. So really, it's not cold or heartless of me to get a little queasy and want to leave when I see the blood all gushing out of my roommate.

That's because life's not like the movies. People don't all of a sudden overcome their fears when their friends are in danger. Life's not like that. Everyone's afraid of something, and I happen to be afraid of blood.

So it's not my fault that I'm useless when I find my roommate all pale and sticky from the blood that's pumping out of her hands.

Her voice makes me jump back to the right now when she whines about something, probably about how she's never going to be able to get the stain out of the couch. I don't really understand what she says though, because I'm too busy trying to keep my lunch in my stomach and she's kind of mumbling. So I ignore her and go to the kitchen to get a towel, because it'll cover up the blood so that I can't see it and maybe stop the gushing.

I throw her the towel because there's no way I'm risking getting any of her blood on me, and it's like once she's got her hands covered her mouth starts working again and she just starts complaining complaining complaining.

She's all, would it kill me to help her out a little? And, would it be so hard for me to maybe get the Oxi-Clean before the stain settles? And she's all me, me, me and she doesn't even bother thanking me for the towel.

So I ignore her again and decide to ask her what happened to make her get blood all over her fancy white cliche of a couch.

She gives me this nasty look, made even worse by the paleness and the sweatiness and then she starts screaming at me.

"Someone's out to get me! People want me dead!"

And I know that I said I'm not cold before and I really meant it only I can't really help but start laughing when she says this.

That's because it's just so vain to think that people want you dead.

It's just so vain to think that people want you alive, too.

Pretty much it's vain to think that people want you anything but out of their way.

So there's my roommate, screaming and bleeding and there's me, laughing and trying not to puke, and secretly we're both probably loving the drama because drama is just so much more exciting than normal. Drama just gets so much more attention.

Then we're driving to the hospital and she's still screaming about the couch and people who are jealous of her that would want her dead and the whole time I'm thinking that she's full of s**t and she probably just cut her hand on a bottle or something. 

But I don't say anything because drama is just so much more exciting than normal.

Author's Note

This sucks don't read it. I just wanted to write an actual story, and I had this big idea for a beginning but then it just kind of fizzled out and didn't go anywhere. But I'm posting it anyways cos maybe at some point I'll think of somewhere that this can go. The style's a little weird, maybe, I dunno.