I awoke to a bright and relentless light prying at my eyes; the first morning of sunlight in a month.
I sat up to close the heavy curtains from anymore unwanted sun rays flooding in, in doing so I noticed a few of the once yellow and red trees bare. Someone of them, actually a majority of them, happened to be losing their leaves for the winter. The canopy will be empty, as will I.
To be honest, the only "good" thing about winter would in fact be the biting weather. Winter usually meant winter break and winter break almost always meant Christmas and Christmas, at least for my family, always means relatives coming over to spend precious time with us. I hated them. I hated how my parents acted around them; like everything was fine. They pretend to be happy and okay with their fucked up son. And I know they are okay with me to some extent, but it's when they fucking exaggerate everything about how great it is and how wonderful I'm doing. I know that they know how I'm doing. Perhaps I could be a little better than where I am at to them, but nonetheless, they advertise myself as cured!
Not to mention all of the "Christmas spirit" forced upon just about everything. It was depressing, the whole idea of a perfect family Christmas, and just Christmas in general. It's a consumer holiday, considering I don't particularly buy the whole god thing. Parents spoil their children to no end, desperately trying to get their stupid fucking brat to stop throwing a fit for once, all the while encouraging their behavior. Isn't it blaringly obvious? If you give a child something they desire to stop making them cry, they'll fucking cry until they get it again. An endless cycle of ignorance and manipulation at its simplest.
A child could literally do it.
On the complete opposite side of the season, the abiding cold always especially favored Eugene, soon light freckles of snow will fall upon the roof tops and empty trees. I was ready for the kind of white abyss.
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Later in the afternoon I was coerced to sit through another daunting session with Dr. Scott; I swear to fuck that man is oddly persistent in curing the incurable, reckless abandon. But regardless of my obvious hopelessness I spent approximately an hour and a half with him, discussing my feelings or whatever. Something we had gone through just about every time.
My mind began to settle everything into place once again. The indifference and apathy took over more than usual, and I noticed myself going through the motions of what appeared to be deemed necessary. It was an awful sickness, I'm beginning to realize that a bit. The emotionless task of everything consuming more than the sadness was a bit terrifying in fact. This, I was hoping to avoid and continue with the motivation towards self deprivation and the adoration of Adam. Of course hopeful wasn't what I would consider myself at all.
It was evening now, the only time of the day I actually felt at least a small amount of comfort it. It was the beginning of an ending, and what better way to go than leading up to it. That was always my favorite part of anything; the moment leading up to it. The anticipation alone is something fulfilling enough to actually give a damn. And in this moment, I cared an awful lot about whatever was to come. I was preparing myself for something else, escaping into the night.
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No one loves you, but what's the difference in that?
The real topic of interest here is about you; you don't care at all, about anything.
You don't even care about your own ending.
YOU ARE READING
Before the Rain
Teen FictionCal Bennett lives to forget regret; his entire existence agonizingly consistent. He plans to jump off an overpass in Eugene, Oregon. He is almost successful, that is, until Adam Olivas catches him before he even knew he was falling.
