BRIGHT ;; troyler

V

*Tyler POV*

Sitting on my comfortable red couch in the middle of the living room, I was tiredly looking at a class map opened on the table. Words were written and aligned on not blank anymore pages, and tried to explain to me how was functioning Socrates brain. Thousands and thousands of sentences in the surprisingly feminine writing of my classmate, Josh. He had this way to make his a's and o's like in the old letters that my grandma made for my uncle, the ones I found in the attic. This really round movement who seemed to remind a girl's writing. But oh, here I am, gendering letters instead of learning the deep thoughts of Socrates.

I couldn't say that I'm a big fan of him, I find him quite annoying to be really honest. He was supposed to be the wisest man who ever touched the ground of our earth, but he found his intellect in saying that he knew that he knew nothing. Already this sentence presents well the character, a paradox in itself and a no-escape reflection. He used to stop people in the streets, ask them about their life and ask them about meaning of things just to respond with a "that is not enough, that is not a clear definition," without giving any exit. He would say that a letter is not finished when you already signed it, and when you ask him how to complete it, he would leave you without answers. I'm not really impressed that most of his acquaintances stopped the conversation by being upset. He destructed without giving a hand to build again.

"This is impossible. I'm never going to get through this year..." The words escaped my mouth without any real permission. Took by surprise of my own sentence, I laid back in the couch my hand brushing my hair. I felt my head more than heavy and the start of a burning fire in the inside of it, one of my famously horrid headaches was slowly starting as I was trying to study philosophy. I bent my body to reach the tiny bedtable we place against the couch, not wanting to get up to search my medicaments. My fingers got their way to the box in paper and opened it with an agility who made me almost ashamed.

I had so many headaches those last four months, taking pills was now an habit. But what can I do, it's helping me to get through rough nights.

Realising I needed water if I wanted to get this medication working, I silently cursed myself for not putting any bottle inside the bedtable. I sighed heavily as I started walking to the kitchen where my mother was cooking our next meal. Hearing my steps, she turned to see if it was her son or her husband. She smiled at me, and it worked on me like gasoline, bringing warmth to my body in one instant. I walked to her and took her in a hug. "What are you doing? It smells nice." She escaped the embrace, turned again to the counter and started to chop carrots, "You'll see, who knows how to wait always win from it." I rolled my eyes with sarcasm before opening the drawer with the forks and knives. Staring at it for a good five seconds, I felt completely lost. What was I searching, again? What was my purpose, in this kitchen? Oh, right. Water. I'm in the wrong drawer.

I changed and asked my mom to move a little because she was in front of the glasses. She took one and handed to me with a frown. "Pills?" My hand reached for what she was holding, but she moved it before I had it. She repeated again her question. "Pills? You've got a headache? Again?" I cleared my throat, not that I was afraid of what my mother could say if she knew it was for medication, because she was a charming woman and never did anything to make me feel less than I really am, but I was scared of her looks and was scared to admit to myself that I having the same health problem few times a week proved that I was working too hard and overusing my capacities.

"I have an headache, it's just starting now. I don't want it to continue, I don't want it to hurt."

She handed me the glass, looking disappointed. I let out a chuckle at the irony of the situation, not controlling myself. "What a funny thing it is, that dad is pushing me to work more and more, making him and yourself proud, telling me that's it's the only way to success, encouraging me with hands over my back, good night kisses and lovable smiles, while you actually hate seeing me working. You can't stand it. You always turn on the TV to make me loose my attention, if you could glue me to the table you would."

She stayed silent for few seconds, taking in the words that I just told her. She probably thought they were an attack, which wasn't the case at all.

"This is not a life for a nineteen year old. This is not a life for a kid, Tyler. I don't want you to loose your teenage years because of us. Of course I'm proud, of course I want success for you, but if it means you doing sleepless nights and crying over homework or papers for the funeral home, then I'm completely against it. You-" she marked a pause, thinking about the words she was using to hit me with, "we are killing your young years and your body, I'm not even talking of your mind. Life isn't about success, honey, life is about having fun. And you're not. Not since you stopped inviting people home."

My whole body heated up, but not from love like it did earlier, right now it was from anger. "I do what I want, mom. Tell whatever you want to yourself, that I'm not happy, but I don't want to fail a year in school anymore. I failed once and it was one of the hardest things I had to go through in my small and irreverent life. I can't allow myself to fail anymore. I don't want to loose another year of my small life in this stupid school, trying to understand things that I literally do not care, because I already have a job, a job that I like, but you and dad want me to finish to have a diploma. I'm tried of this. But I like it. Mom you're-"

I stopped myself suddenly. My hands were shaking from anger, and I realised I was saying things who hurts me and my mom. She was looking at me with big eyes and they were full of surprise, because of the attitude of her son who is normally kind and nice and everything a mom can dream, and I was just bursting into something that was absolutely not me, and that will never be. I approached my hand to her shoulder and asked silently if I could comfort what I just broke, "I'm sorry. I just- ugh. It's overwhelming, there's so much to learn, so many clients to help, I don't follow school anymore because I'm home working for the funerals, so I have to study at night and sometimes I don't understand anymore, I just don't have time to... To see people. I want to pass so much, mom. And I like my job, I'm having fun, it's making myself happy with my capacities, but right now... It's a lot at the same time. I just want to finish this year and I'll be okay."

She licked her lips, not sure of what to say, what to do to help me, a bit taken by the responsibilities she's supposed to have right now. She silently asked me to open the fridge where a dessert waited for me. I smiled slowly as I took it and thanked her. She had no idea of what to do with me, to help me, but so am I, so she used the easy way: make me happy so I forget that everything looked wrong.

A/N
Okay I'm soooo sorry. I finished this chapter such a long time ago but never published it and I realized that a part of it got deleted. It's been a really long time and I can't find any force to write the end.

So short chapter.

(Still hope you enjoy! Don't forget to leave comments they make my day!)