"I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice
When I'm not around
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here" - Creep, Radiohead
From below the ground, from behind the stars, from the darkest corners and the deepest of dreams, comes a person. A person who's mind is twisted colors, who's soul is blacker than night, and who's skin is whiter than snow. A person who is too skinny for skinny jeans, and who has eyes deader than road kill. But these eyes can pass signals to other people just like them. You don't know them. They are the shadows that crawl behind you. They are the noises you hear at night. They are what hurries away when you turn on the light in the basement. You don't know them. They don't even have a name. They aren't the "emos" or the "nerds" or the "punks." You don't know them, and so you haven't given them a name. But we know what we are. We're nerdy emo punks, affectionately referred to as creeps, and sometimes freaks. You don't know us, but we know you. That time you did something embarrassing and thought no one saw? Well, no one important anyway. Just the weird kid who sits behind you in math. He's not an absent minded boy. He's a creep, he's a weirdo. What the hell is he doing here? He doesn't belong here. You don't know us, but we know you.
I woke up. God, another day. I was getting real tired of that. I felt myself burning.The sun was pounding against my ghostly white skin and into my eyes. My mom must have opened the blinds again. Fuck her.
I straightened up, feeling the familiar soreness of my back curl around my spine like a loving hug. My eyes shifted to my pillow, zeroing in on little splotches of blood. Some patches were dried, some were freshly red. I began to suck on my bottom lip. The familiar taste of my own blood washed over my tongue. I must have been biting my lip again in my sleep. Sure, it's cool how much like fangs my teeth look, but they hurt like hell.
I got up and rolled the blinds back down. Still too bright, but better. I went into the bathroom, feeling my frizzy hair flow through the morning air. I turned off all the lights so I could see myself. I turned to the mirror and watched the blood gush from my bottom lip. It was hypnotizing. A few minutes went by. I sucked my lip again and got in the shower.
Feeling just as dirty as I did before, I went back into my room after washing myself. I took a minute too look at myself in the cracked mirror hanging on my wall. God, I was skinny. My eyes grazed over my thin, boney, twisty structure. What a snake I was. I pulled on my "skinny" jeans, meaning the jeans that best clung to my hips, exposing a good portion of my boxers. I put on a faded, oversized black t-shirt and my way oversized dark red hoodie that I never zipped. My socks didn't match, but they never did. I slid into my ancient shoes. I put up my hood and left the house without eating breakfast or saying goodbye.
The walk to school was my favorite part of the day. The night was good, but the day was the worst. The walk to school consisted of me walking by myself and listening to music. It was the 11 minutes before I got to school. It was the calm before the storm.
