Valeria curled up on Vic's warm side, windows down, "Wanna Be Starting Something" playing on the radio of his worn down, 2003 Mercedes E55. "This is nice." Vic didn't respond right away. "Do you like this view?" he asked. "Love it. The city lights remind me of your pretty eyes." Vic smiled and looked at her. "You're corny" he said, trying to hide his excitement. She laughed and wrapped her arms around him. Vic felt in that moment what made everything he'd gone through before worth it. Everything was perfect. He looked up.
He checked his surroundings. His teacher lecturing his last class of the day, exhausted kids ready to indulge immediately after school whether it be in food, sleep, drugs, or all three of them. He started to cry, quietly. Although he didn't really care if a single person heard. Most people were asleep, probably dreaming of things similar to what Victor was fantasizing about. The only difference being, Victor was wide awake. Although he might as well have been in an entirely different place.
He looked across the room and saw Valeria, her head resting on her hand. She looked just about as bored as everyone else. He gushed. And then he continued crying. Victor had wanted to talk to Valeria for months. She'd always been fascinating to him. Victor was blinded by his own desires. He was fascinated, but too fascinated for a girl he'd never spoken a word to.
It was the looks she gave him. The attention he'd been starved of so much that looks were enough to make him crazy. He wasn't himself when he had fantasies like this. He painted pictures so vivid in his mind that genuine sadness came upon him when he remembered they weren't true. They weren't sexual, they were simply scenarios that Victor thought would bring him true happiness. Similar to the one he had in class.
Like many others, Victor was terrified of taking action, only to a much stronger degree. That could be applied to almost all aspects of his life. He didn't like failure, or having to do things over and over again. He wanted everything smooth and perfect in one go. Feelings of doubt would seep through the cracks of his mind if things fell out of place. That was when it was best to enter the pit of delusion.
Victor was the first one out of the door when the bell rang. He got on the bus and put in his headphones. Victor was a lover of
music. He made music himself, all written, produced, and recorded by him. He never shared it with anyone. Judgement was high on his dodge list. "This music is for me, only." He often thought to himself. The interesting part about that statement is he also wanted to make a career out of music. He figured time would sort it all out for him, and pretty much rolled with that in the back of his mind.
He walked through the door of his home. Silence. Victor did not question where his mother was. She claimed to be at the farmers market. She claimed this often. Victor did not buy it, nor did he care where she actually was. It was obvious this was not truthful, because when his mother returned, no fruit was to be found in the fridge. He figured as long as he believed she was at the farmers market, nothing bad could or would happen. Maybe even the fruit would appear soon. He did not dwell on it, he had better things to do, like think.
His thoughts were his heaven and his hell. When he found moments of being at peace, he would wonder how long they would last. When things weren't at peace, he would imagine enough until they were at peace. This would last until things were "good enough" once again. The lethal cycle.
That was life for him. Waiting....waiting....waiting. Everything will sort itself out. Patience is a virtue. That is to be interpreted differently among....everyone. Victor.
