Demon

.i.

It's in the one, we are connected to the all and the connection of all that we are one.
-ComfortMsfit

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I always brought myself to the conclusion that I was not deserving of love or any facets remotely close to it and that being alone was all I would ever be and I was content with the idea that I could just live with myself and live life waking "just fine".

It's an independent-teenager-who-needs-nothing-but-money-junkfood-electronic-devices-and-a-paid-Wi-fi-bill thing, where you are conscious about nothing but the self with no intention of pleasing anyone but the ever present hunger that dwells in the purgatory that is my stomach.

"Sky!" That was the sound of the roaring, ever grim wench of the halls.
Though we all just call her Miss Mason, the Head of the Mathematics department and Deputy Principal at Orel High.

"Present," I said with an emphasized and elongated "s" to which she must've disliked because she lowered her rectangular framed spectacles glaring through them as she gripped the clip board that had the class list as she was taking roll call and I had slouched like a dog crouching away from an object about to be chucked right at it.
Though she seemed to be pleased with that act seeing as after she pushed her spectacles back up with the connecting metal that bridges across the nose with an evil smirk on her face and continued with roll call as usual.

__________

The day was over and I was exhausted in all forms possible. Though it's just a norm to arrive home with a case of the "afterschool"'s for me.

I never really intended to live such a dreary and repetitive life; where all I do is move from one section of learning to another, when all it is that I want to do is be able to fall and not be looked down upon just because I'm not a text book character of a person this society ever scrutinizingly forces me to be.

Something not me.
_________

"Sky Tiananmen, it's your last time coming into this house so late in the night! What is wrong with you?!"

[And good evening to you father.]

That was the greeting my father gave me every Saturday after I came back from getting stoned in my favorite hiding spot round the condos downtown where all the good stuff could be found whenever in demand.

"I'm sorry Dad, I went off my usual hiking path this time round. I didn't mean to upset you" I managed to mumble out of my numb lips with a dull and expression-less face. He just carried on blurting insults at how I was foolish and "unorganized and irresponsible" and just tisked me away and I was content with that seeing as at times he would approach me with a look of range that I'm sure did not only arise from my tardiness.

[Just another Saturday...]
I thought to myself as I gently shut the door to my room and got into my pjs and slipped slowly into my cold bed but since I lost my sense of physical awareness I might as well had just shuffled under a piece of cloth. Well I did, but anyways.

It always seemed easier to fall asleep and quiet my mind with the drugs. It's not like these anti-depressants help for shit. They just get you temporary sympathy and when that's gone, you realise it wasn't the anti-depressants working and all the attention, you're just left there, numb.

So why not just skip the whole "perfect start" and get right to the pretentiously exaggerated finish line.

It's not like it's going anywhere. Somewhere, somehow, it'll be what you cross through last and when you least expect it.

So I skip all the bullshit and get right to it. It sounds weird for an 17 year old to speak so ill and forward about it but if not me, then who else?
" Like, you have so much to live for."
" You're still young, you should be happy."
" Just be happy."

They all say like I'm not trying. But why would I when all my life I've been treated like a guest in someone else's house who's overstayed their welcome. Like I'm nothing but the jester performing before the real stars come out to joust.

Like I'm nothing. Nothing at all.

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*Author's Notes*

It's my first time posting a chapter on this book. I hope who ever reads this enjoys.

*No official posting dates*