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Description
Walking down the hallway, I saw the boy that had been catching my eye. I wasn’t so much turned off by his crude jokes and half lidded stare as I was by his stupid haircut. Every morning I talk to him on the bus, his eyes half open and mouth open, moving and slurring lazily. I was attracted to the people who reminded me of myself. I was fucked up and crazy, with no respect for the rules. I was a smoker. Fifteen. And had been for a year. Weed was a huge relief to my system whenever I granted myself the amazing drag and haze it provided.
Hooked on pills since I was twelve and an avid school skipper since I learned what it was. Now in high school, I couldn’t do that. They gave detentions just for missing one assignment. But I was okay there. I could do the work. I wasn’t stupid, just impatient and not entertained with trivial things. Thinking was something I enjoyed, I often wrote or drew. I wasn’t likely to be found grinding on some random girl at a party. I wasn’t likely to be found grinding on a girl. That wasn’t my style at all. I fell, and I fell hard. I was pretty much addicted to music. No one really understood how my hard ass exterior mixed with my softer mind and heart.
At home, I was smoking a cigarette and doing math when I heard a knock at my door. Or so I thought, it was really my phone going off against the dining room table so loud it sounded like thunder. I didn’t realize this until I had already stubbed out the cherry on the bottom of my shoe. What a waste. I answered the text {wanna hang? When you hang in my crowd, you don’t really hang. Or talk, it’s more, hey… I’ve got some extra…} and then headed out, grabbing the house key and some money.
Two hours later I was on a couch, buzzed off my ass, waiting until he would hurry up and offer me a freaking little Debbie snack. He’d been grabbing one after the other, and I felt like I hadn’t eaten in three years. They were under his bed, directly beneath him. I finally just reached my hand down and to the right between his legs and grabbed one myself.
“Could’ve asked…” He slurred and I nodded in response, through a mouthful of oatmeal and cream, “Yeah, but it was faster to just grab one.” The palpable silence was almost deafening and I almost couldn’t breathe because the room was so small. The black light made my skin ten times paler, and it made me want to puke. Suddenly my mind was clicking, and I realized what was going on. I stood up, and he asked what was wrong. My answer was nothing, but in reality it was everything because it was everything that was closing around me at once and it all was so damned clear.
If there was one thing I hated more than the feeling of coming down, it was the feeling when it was just skipped completely; I instantly was sobered and thinking and nothing could stop it. There were only three things that could make me do this. Being around my parents, cops, and when I realized something. I have very philosophical highs.
After nodding to his father that I was leaving, I left. I walked, and I walked, and I fucking walked. I ended up in the cemetery. I loved the cemetery. Past it, though. I had to keep going. Get to my secret place.
When I reached the rocks, saw the river and the wind in my hair was refreshing, I pulled the sleeves on my hoodie up, revealing what I always had to hide. My arms were a sore spot. They revealed what I didn’t want to admit. I didn’t want to say it when I was sitting with him on the bus, or while I was sitting on his bed, nor did I want to admit it to myself. But I did. On my arms. In plain sight, they read:
I love Gerard.

Description
Walking down the hallway, I saw the boy that had been catching my eye. I wasn’t so much turned off by his crude jokes and half lidded stare as I was by his stupid haircut. Every morning I talk to him on the bus, his eyes half open and mouth open, moving and slurring lazily. I was attracted to the people who reminded me of myself. I was fucked up and crazy, with no respect for the rules. I was a smoker. Fifteen. And had been for a year. Weed was a huge relief to my system whenever I granted myself the amazing drag and haze it provided.
Hooked on pills since I was twelve and an avid school skipper since I learned what it was. Now in high school, I couldn’t do that. They gave detentions just for missing one assignment. But I was okay there. I could do the work. I wasn’t stupid, just impatient and not entertained with trivial things. Thinking was something I enjoyed, I often wrote or drew. I wasn’t likely to be found grinding on some random girl at a party. I wasn’t likely to be found grinding on a girl. That wasn’t my style at all. I fell, and I fell hard. I was pretty much addicted to music. No one really understood how my hard ass exterior mixed with my softer mind and heart.
At home, I was smoking a cigarette and doing math when I heard a knock at my door. Or so I thought, it was really my phone going off against the dining room table so loud it sounded like thunder. I didn’t realize this until I had already stubbed out the cherry on the bottom of my shoe. What a waste. I answered the text {wanna hang? When you hang in my crowd, you don’t really hang. Or talk, it’s more, hey… I’ve got some extra…} and then headed out, grabbing the house key and some money.
Two hours later I was on a couch, buzzed off my ass, waiting until he would hurry up and offer me a freaking little Debbie snack. He’d been grabbing one after the other, and I felt like I hadn’t eaten in three years. They were under his bed, directly beneath him. I finally just reached my hand down and to the right between his legs and grabbed one myself.
“Could’ve asked…” He slurred and I nodded in response, through a mouthful of oatmeal and cream, “Yeah, but it was faster to just grab one.” The palpable silence was almost deafening and I almost couldn’t breathe because the room was so small. The black light made my skin ten times paler, and it made me want to puke. Suddenly my mind was clicking, and I realized what was going on. I stood up, and he asked what was wrong. My answer was nothing, but in reality it was everything because it was everything that was closing around me at once and it all was so damned clear.
If there was one thing I hated more than the feeling of coming down, it was the feeling when it was just skipped completely; I instantly was sobered and thinking and nothing could stop it. There were only three things that could make me do this. Being around my parents, cops, and when I realized something. I have very philosophical highs.
After nodding to his father that I was leaving, I left. I walked, and I walked, and I fucking walked. I ended up in the cemetery. I loved the cemetery. Past it, though. I had to keep going. Get to my secret place.
When I reached the rocks, saw the river and the wind in my hair was refreshing, I pulled the sleeves on my hoodie up, revealing what I always had to hide. My arms were a sore spot. They revealed what I didn’t want to admit. I didn’t want to say it when I was sitting with him on the bus, or while I was sitting on his bed, nor did I want to admit it to myself. But I did. On my arms. In plain sight, they read:
I love Gerard.