Tidal Waves- Brallon

11. j e t pack b l u e s

Dallon

The walk home from that conversation is brutal. It happened just after school.

You know, people really know how to fuck up someone's life and shatter their trust.

Stuff like this can really damage a person. Hell, change a person.

Not gonna lie, it feels like hell. It feels like this pain in the pit of my stomach just bursting, making me want to cry. (But that's not right for a boy.) I have this motive to just scream and break everything. To change everything.

So I head to my room, slamming my creme-white front door and jogging up the stairs.

I'm filled with anger and hatred right now.

I can't find anything to break or anything to at least calm me down, but in the corner of my eye, I see a hint of a pale-blue beside a cup of velvet-red.

All shapes, no particular details. Some of the velvet-red is weeping down the long cup. The pale-blue container is just resting on the dresser.

I want to take out one of the objects in the pale-blue. But, rather than doing that, I take the velvet-red and break it apart.

He said, When the last one dies, he will stop liking me. Why would he go through all this trouble to inflict emotional pain on someone who has feelings just like him?

Well, that's it. The last flower falling to the rough carpet on my bedroom floor. No hesitation. It's over just as much as I'd rather my life be.

But I'm only being dramatic. I don't actually want to.

Instead, I lay on my bed and think, and scream quietly, and ball up my fists. A few tears escape my eyes but not a lot.

Some would say I handled this situation better than others would. Some would say I broke.

Both are right. Though I do feel like crying and screaming and breaking dressers and tearing clothes, I just lay here, crying.

The walls are white. My hair is messy. My bed has books and papers scattered on it. My floor may or may not have empty cups on it.

What would happen if I paint my walls?

-

Hello it's me

-me