I Don't Even Know ❇ malum au

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Picture at top/side is how Cal will look.  Also, btw, Cal is going to be his real height, and Mikey will be 5'5''.  Mikey is eighteen and Cal is seventeen.  Cal is built, while Mikey is unhealthily thin.  I know... Cliché - fight me...

Another day around the house is all that it seemed to be to my father.  Well, not exactly.  My father was never really home - always occupied with his job in realtory.  My mother, she was gone.  I never even knew her.  Deep down, I'm secretly glad that I never did get the chance to know the woman.  If I'd known her, I'd missed her.  Cause, hell, I sure did miss may father.

And everything was falling apart.  I'd come home each and everyday just hating the life out of myself.  I knew that what I was feeling wasn't normal, though it was just too much work to be looked into.  I just wanted sleep and perfection.  To crawl into bed and to wake up being worthy of the world.  But no matter how early I may've fallen asleep, I never did wake up with enough energy the next day.

It was awful.

Awful because, I never did know if things were ever going to get better.  Looking in the mirror and hating what I saw.  It's not that I found myself too fat or too skinny - I didn't know what I didn't like about the appearance that belonged to me.  I knew that I had a beauty to myself, but it wasn't a great enough beauty to even out the flaws.

A negative being, I was.  I hated everything in life, yet loved it at the same time.  Socialization was always too great of a stress, but there was one person that I found the occasional comfort in.  No, not romantically.  Though, we loved one another.  It was a brotherly love, a bond that would remain unbroken.

Ashton Irwin.

He was basically my brother.  He was a slightly older boy who had a well kempt shag that always threatened to hide his eyes away, a Hulk like posture, and a handful of hidden scars.  I had never completely understood why the boy would do that to himself in the past.  He was always a role model, being intelligent and tough.  He never was the confident man that one would expect him to be, always avoiding anything that could possibly involve him.  That's what I hated about him, the fact that he never took the credit that he deserved.  Though, I could never hate him.  He was the kind of person that everyone would avoid - labeling him as a freak, but then fall in love with his aura once they would give him a chance.

Life was strange.

Everyone wanted to hate anything that was different.  I guess that must be why I didn't like myself.  Because I myself was different, and I hated it.  No, I didn't want to be cliché.  I just wanted to be able to except myself for what truly mattered.  Though, I guess that's where the world held its fault line.

Mankind.

Mankind was just fucked up in general, everyone always so obsessed with material objects and appearances.  I didn't give a rat's ass about what I owned, just as long as I held a substantial amount of beauty.  Though, when you can't except yourself - I guess that you just don't seem to notice your changes, and that really sucked.

Yet again, life sucked.

My father began to slip away from my knowing, me hardly ever being near him, anymore.  I missed how we would pass a ball back and forth, how we would make homemade pizza, how I always planned to be just like him, how he always seemed proud of me, and how I always felt loved.

I've always been a dramatic fuck, but when he started ignoring and avoiding me - I took a major turn for the worst.  I thought that maybe it was because I was too ugly, maybe I was fat, maybe I was weak, maybe I was a freak, maybe I was too stupid, or that maybe I was just a burden in general.  I didn't know.  I just wanted to feel loved again, but that feeling never did reemerge from him.

Maybe he was just lost and broken.

Maybe he missed mom, though I imagined that he would have just stayed sad after she died, rather than the emotions all flooding in at once years after.  Though, maybe I really was too stupid to know what was truly going on.

So I never said anything.

Never once did I confront him about him never being home, or about the immense distance between us when he actually was around.  I was a pussy when it came to that matter.  If I was too afraid to face the truth of myself, then how could I ever have faced the truth of my father?

It was as simple as that.

All it took was just a bit of convincing and lying to myself, and I was oblivious.  Though, my ignorance is what kept me okay.  Well, not exactly 'okay', but I was better off than what I could have been - which is saying quite a lot.

But that day - that was the day that changed my life.  When I'd woken up that morning, I expected it to just end up being another shitty day like usual.  And I was excepting of that - that I was just another hopeless case.  It wasn't like I was the only one suffering with problems of my own, so I didn't bother to even care.

Because it was hopeless.

I was rummaging through my closet for a baggy shirt, coming across a notebook that must've been left over from supply shopping.  But for some reason, the blank book caught my eye.  Seeing that as the possibilities for the hundreds of plain white papers were endless, I smiled.  And as I carried the book back to my bed, the smile didn't fade.  I picked up a pen along the way, opening the book and writing on the front page :

:)The Journal of Michael G. Clifford(:

Okay, so maybe it was the expected action of some teenage girl - but it's not like anyone ever had to see it.  At that moment, I realized that the book was going to help me sort through my issues.  That maybe I didn't really need help or to just disappear.  I needed a way of channeling my emotions so that maybe they'd make more sense.  Maybe I wasn't okay, but I wasn't completely broken.  The journal could fix me.  I was convinced.

And that's how the rest of my life began.

(A/N)  oMG...  What have I done?

Shish is going down.

iDK

Ignore me, man - Just chillax, and I hope that you will continue reading.  The other chapters will be longer - the ones that aren't entries, anyway :-)