Misadventure

     The first few steps of leaving are hard, you just want to run back to the certainty but once you're far enough away, its easy. It's sad how easy it is to pick up and leave; leave behind friends, family, your room, everything, not missing a thing. See, I've left so many times that the first few steps don't hurt anymore; I always come back, though. More like, I'm forced back and never return willingly; it's normally in the back of a police car. I just like uncertainties of leaving, no plans, a few dollars and fate. My parents don't get why I'm always running off. Did it ever occur that it was them and their suffocatingly, predictable routine? My father and his cup of coffee every morning and his same colored suit and tie. My mother and her orange juice and toast; every fucking day. Its like they're in movie I'm watching, only I've seen it a million times; my mother kissing him good bye and sending him off to work. Its like they're actors following a script and I'm supposed to be the perfect son, eating breakfast with his perfect family, being happy and perfect but I can't. That's. not. me.

That's why I've left so many times; I'm suffocating here. The fake perfection consumes me and I can feel it bubbling up into my throat and I can't catch my breath. I can't fucking breath but there's nothing there; nothing is choking me. It's all in my head my parents tell me but its not. Can't they see the fake perfection has consumed them and they aren't who they once were; they lost themselves. But I believe I can fight it. I never want to fall into the routine. Its so painstakingly boring, I cant imagine it. I, Ellis Andy Cecil, will not give in.  This is what I think as I eat my same everyday-toast, while my parents go on with the routine. I nod when they talk to me, although, I'm not listening until a hand is waving infront of my face.

"Huh?" I mumble, a bit bewildered.

"I've been saying your name for five minutes, did you hear your father?" My mother shouts, scolding me, predictably. 

"Uh, no I didn't, my bad."  I say, turning towards my father.

"I was saying how you need to focus on school more, instead of that silly skate boarding." He repeats, like he says every morning.

"Dad, my grades are fine, Jesus! I'm a kid; let me live a little." I protest, letting out an exasperated sigh and muttering "fucking asshole" under my breath.

"What did you just call me?!" My father bellows at the same time my mother gasps, "Ellis!"

"I do believe you heard me. Now, if you don't mind, I have this thing called school and no, before you ask, I am not going to run away." I snap before abruptly getting up, grabbing my things, and walking out the door. I step into the street, not looking to see if cars were coming, slightly hoping one was.

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This is a new story i really like. Hope you like it.