pen pals // muke au

two.

        A week has passed since I've sent out my letter I wrote for Michael, and as expected, he still hasn't replied. I checked my mailbox every single day, asked the mail-man if he seen his letter, tried calling him-- I tried everything. I hope I didn't scare him off with my being extremely concerned. I only want to know what happened to my friend; well, my only close friend. 

        I've always found it hard for me to approach people and start a normal conversation. My stutter is probably an annoyance to some, which is understandable since I can't seem to control it. Yeah, I've been to speech therapy, but a few stutters slip from my mouth time after time. I guess you can say I'm an awkward person-- a really afraid, awkward person. Theres's awkward, then there's awkward. I don't know how to keep someone interested, I don't know how to relate, I don't know how to communicate. I've came to the conclusion that the lack of attention from my parents has had a great impact on me with my social skills. I'm just scared that I might say something stupid, so I don't say anything.

        "Luke, honey, quit staring out that window. You're scaring your father and I," My mother, Diane, said after an hour of silence. She was packing-- very furiously.

        Maybe she should quit staring at me like I'm some psycho on the verge of mass murder. Sometimes my parents act like parents; concerned, worried, vigilant. Then sometimes they act like total strangers: avoidant, careless, oblivious. If you were to look at our photos around the house, you'd notice that they're truly outdated. When I was normal, I guess, we were normal. I smiled, they smiled. I laughed, they laughed. I cried, they provided comfort. As a I aged though, all that attention drifted away.  My parent's love toward each other also drifted away. I think this happened only because I told them I heard things, and then they realized their son was flawed, which made them believe that somehow along the way of my upbringing, -- in simple words -- they fucked up. 

        "They know. They know we're back. They know. They know. They know!," all of the voices sang, invading my thoughts for the millionth time today.

        "I'm w-w-waiting..." 

        "Go make sure all your things are in boxes. Occupy yourself," My Father, Richard, interjected.

        "W-w-waitng..."

        "What are you waiting for, Luke?," he asked, sighing afterwards. I could right away tell that he was becoming annoyed. 

        "Quit being a bother. You're bothering them. You're bothering them. You're BOTHERING THEM," one of them yelled, "You're such a pest, such a pest," it whispered.

        "Michael. I'm waiting for M-m-michael..."

        "Oh, your friend? I'm surprised you still write to him. It's been years since you've mentioned him."  

        I shake my head. My father was exaggerating. I used to talk a lot about Michael when he wrote back, but now I have nothing to say. He was all I talked about. This whole conversation shows how much my parents care. 

        "Yeah. I guess..."

        Although I still wanted to wait until the mailman came, I removed myself from the spot  on the couch that was perched infront of the window where I could clearly see the mailbox. I didn't want to freak out my parents anymore. I didn't want them to find out. I didn't want them to know. 

        I sat at my desk, contemplating if I should write another letter. I should. I think I should. I forgot to mention in the other letter that I was moving. 

Dear M,

        What's up? 

        "No," I muttered and crumpled up the paper. 

Hey M,

        How's it going? Everything alright? I've been trying to reach you. I have some good news, I guess. I'm moving. To America. Cool, right? I'm excited, and it's like the first time I've been this happy for something. Fresh start, new people, new places to see. Maybe we can finally meet each other for once! What state do you live in again? Oregon? I think we're moving to Ohio. Haha both our states start with an 'O'. Twins...

        Anyway, I really hope we can meet up sometime. Maybe our states aren't far from each other. Maybe they are. I haven't really studied the states and where exactly they're located, but if they are far from each other, I'd still like to see you. For once. I'd be cool to talk to you face to face, and also thank you for still being my friend. 

        So... my parents are pestering me about packing my things. I gotta get on doing that otherwise they'll get mad... Have a nice... day? Night. I don't know. 

        Bye xx

   --L. Hemmings

        I folded the paper and slipped it into an envelope. I felt tired so I decided to address it in the morning and drop it off at the post office before we left to the 'States. My parents are gonna be mad that I didn't do as they said, but I was tired... From what? I don't know... From waiting, I guess.

        "They're gonna think you're lazy," one voice said, "LAZY. LAZY. LAZY," the other pestered on.

        "They're gonna think they have a sad, lazy excuse for a son. LAZY. So worthless. Good for nothing son."

        "Don't they already believe that? Haha..." another one commented.

        I sighed and got up. I began to shove random things in boxes. Now they don't have a reason to scold me. Now the voices don't have a reason to bug me. I did as they said. Box things.

*****

WOOP i updated. 

next chapter is gonna be when michael finally comes in ;)

f i n a l l y!!!