Without a Title.

A Story by kawaiiLovely

Excerpt from a first-person story I'd started to write.

I stay locked in my room. Staring at a computer screen. Instead of putting my thoughts on paper, it's virtual. I have no life any more. Really truly. But it's not like I'm forced not to have a life. I refuse it. I refuse to go out with my best friend since 4th grade, so I leave her alone and come home. It's not that mother won't let me go to the movies with my friend. I just don't want to. I sit locked to a bed doing absolutely nothing. It's nice to stare at the ceiling sometimes. Pretend your crazy. Come up with so many scenarios that it's so easy to get caught up in them. I'm not schizophrenic, don't get me wrong, the shadows I see, I make them up myself. If you can't talk to anyone, might as well pretend. I probably did imagine up Meru. Seeing as I stopped talking to her, she stopped protecting me.

Why wasn’t I able to sleep before, and now, it's impossible to stay awake.. I slept a good ten hours last night, and yet after a little trip on the town with mother, I was exhausted. Couldn't wait to get home, dozed off in the car. Heck, I go to school and the first thing I do when I get there is lie my head on the table. I get home, lock myself in my room, sleep or stare at a computer screen again.

I like to get caught up in my thoughts. Thinking things so unimaginable.. I can imagine myself as a serial killer. Really truly. I can hold a knife in my hand as I spread butter over toast in the kitchen and see myself slit mother's throat. I can see myself bashing the head of this girl in my PE class every time I walk past her. Heck.

I don't even know why I like going to sleep. It's not like my dreams have helped much. They're hell. Just last night I had a dream the love of my life and I going at it. Oh yeah. Like that. Then what happened? Guess what? He threw me to the wall, held me by the hair and said how worthless I was. And other inaudible things. And don't you hate when dreams turn so vivid. Well, I do. I hate the fact that I looked into his eyes and felt fear, actual fear. Now that's one hell of a dream, I tell you. So here I wake up crying, and what do you know, the pillow's drenched in tears. Well, not drenched, but you know what I mean. What else.. Hmm… I managed to throw the covers off my bed. And the over-sized pillow that lies at the edge of my bed, oh I probably managed to kick it off. Am I shaken up? Oh yeah. Still. That dream can suck it. Really truly.

But oh well.. Not like it matters. Gonna spend the rest of my life, right here. In this town. I think I'm just tired. Most likely. Tired of these long days. Tired of eating. Gaining weight. Oh yeah, I sure am tired of seeing a fat cow in the mirror. Tired of never being perfect enough. It's just sad, hmm? What am I waiting for???? Huh? For my dream of being a surgeon? I'll be 50 fucken years old before I'll even be considered "the best". Imagine though. Fifty year old me. Old a*s son of a b***h. Alone, in a big house. With no one. Nice. Good dream. Better yet, imagine the 50 year old starving son of a b***h. Yeah, I like that. It's more believable. Why? Because by then, everyone will have given up already. It's already a matter of time now.

But yeah, I can go on and on about this and how I ruined everyone's lives around me. But hey, don't you pity me. Don't think this is some chick crying for attention. "Help me! Mommy, mommy. Wah, wah." Now imagine me saying that in a sarcastic baby voice :P But yeah, like I said before, you wouldn't like me at all.