Authors note: first off, I don't own any artwork, and any copy written concepts, companies, or shows are not mine, and I don't own any rights (please don't sue me) and second, this story is shit, why are you here? So, lots of profanity, maybe some innuendos and general sexuality. Idk where this is going yet, I just sort of start writing and let the story flow. I won't be updating this regularly, it will probably never be finished.
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*BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP*
"Oh fuck, is it morning?" I check the alarm clock. 5:00. Hell, I just got up yesterday, why do I have to do it again? Ugh, oh well. Another day at the place that drains my normally strong soul. School. I scratch my eyes and sit up. "Maybe I'm still dreaming, and I still have hours to sleep?" I wonder. I hold my hands in front of me and force my eyes open "agh shit," I mutter, the light searing my muddled brain. I inspect my hands. "Hm, all my digits are here, and I can see all the lines on my palm. Fuck, I'm awake." Why can't I actually be dreaming at least one of these times? Oh well, that means it's time to get dressed and I.V redbull. After I shower, I look at my wardrobe and pick out a cosmic purple t-shirt and a black vest with punk straps and buckles. I normally don't dress this way, but today, I couldn't give less of a fuck. It's a warm shirt, and it's cold as Elsa's frozen tits outside. "Elsa's frozen tits," I think to myself, "is that an acceptable saying? Ah, fuck it, it's not like I talk to people, so as long as no one hears it, who gives a shit?" After breakfast, I play piano until the bus arrives. I'm working on a new piece by ludavico Einauldi, called A Fuoco. I love this piece, I feel it captures the emotion of my soul fairly well. It's not perfect though. I've played piano all my life, and it's always been my main form of self expression, a means of turning my emotion into observable, quantitative beauty. I love it. My musing are cut short by the sound of the bus. I grab my backpack and head out the door. The driver greets me, but he is a douche who checks out girls asses as they leave, so I don't give him the courtesy of responding. I sit in my seat an put my headphones in, staring out the window pensively. "I'm so cliche," I think, listening to sad music on a rainy day and staring out the bus window. The bus stops at the school, and I force myself to get off. I hate school, but doesn't everyone? See, I live in a sort of urban countryside mesh. It's very odd, it has the infrastructure of a city in the, well, in the cities, but drive three minutes away and you're in the country, where I live. I go to a fairly posh charter school, and it's not too bad (comparatively anyway). I don't get bullied or harassed (no one dares to after what I did to Zack that one time, but that was a one time thing, and he fucking deserved it), and I get passing grades. The only thing is, I have no friends. The odd part of it is, I'm actually kind of popular. Everyone at school knows me and most like me (I have no idea how or why, I don't even talk to people. Maybe they're into brooding, angsty, stormy teenagers...). It's just, well, I hate all of them. They're all assholes, shallow, conceited, idiots, or most often, all of the above. There is not a single human in this school who shares a semblance of normality and kindness, so I keep to myself. The teachers are conceited, the students are stupid, disrespectful, and egotistical, and I just sort of... Exist. My life, currently, consists of occupying my time with studies, eating, and listening to music 24/7 to block out the others. I'm just existing until i can move out and maybe have some sort of life. I can't wait to move out. It's not like I hate my parents, they're nice people, they feed me, buy me clothes sometimes, and if I'm lucky, they might let me buy something nice for myself on occasion. The thing is, they just don't talk to me, or interact with me at all. They just do their own thing, and that's fine. It's what I'm used to from everybody, so why get messed up about it? "Shit me sideways!" I exclaim under my breath, slamming my leg into the desk I was sitting at. The bell scares me every fucking time, and I can't help but jump. You'd think they would change the noise from the screaming shout of death it is now. "Great, I already have a headache, and I haven't even had class with Noah yet," I think to myself. Noah is the loudest, most obnoxious kid here. The kid will just scream in the middle of a class, and the teachers don't care. He's one of their favorite students, despite being terrible at school, and the biggest distraction ever. I understand it though, teachers favor students often for no reason, that's just how it works. A shoulder slams into mine. I look up, into the kids eyes, and can tell he didn't mean to. He looks terrified, so I flash him a smile and kick the book that landed on my foot into the air and catch it (I love doing that, the look on his face was priceless), then hand it to him. He smiles meekly back and hurries off. He's called Dan, and he's one of the few nice kids here, a loner like me. Well, not quite a loner, he has a group of friends he hangs with. They're all assholes, and I can tell he doesn't like them, but company is company. I get to my first class and sit down. "May the odds be never in my favor," I think as I begin another incredibly slow, boring class repeating the same information they always teach.
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"Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-" the final bell rings. It would have scared me, but I've been counting the seconds for ten minutes. It's thirty two seconds late. As I walk out to the bus stop in wait, I hear the whole school abuzz about something. I take my headphones off and listen. Within ten seconds I can tell what's going on. Apparently, a new kid is joining from New York City. I feel bad for them, moving from a thriving, exciting place like that to here, way out in the cold, bigoted part of New England. "I wonder if he'll be cool." He'll probably be an ass, but hey, a boy can dream right?
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"I'm home," I shout, expecting and receiving no response. I sit down to distract myself with music and studies. Just like every night.
YOU ARE READING
As a ghost in the night
RomanceA lonely introvert hopes to find cliché happiness from the new boy. But will things work out as planned, or will he continue to tumble down the Penrose Steps?
