Blood Red Wine

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Looking back, I think I always knew in the back of my mind, what will happen to me and what I truly was. I never had the drive to do anything and never felt any true happiness from anything I did. I felt that life was dull and boring.

What was I doing? Where am I going? Those questions always popped up in my head, but I never had an answer for myself.

I was lost even in my own mind. It was like being trapped in a colorless desert. My mind wondered constantly. I always had trouble concentrating on the world around me. Maybe it was because I wasn't interested or nothing had caught my interest yet. As I was looking back, I was wondering, was I slowly living or dyeing?

My mind was frozen, nothing went in or out. Although my mind was focused on other things, my eyes were focused on Kris King, my best friend. My eyes concentrated on his fast-moving lips, but not really seeing, nor hearing what he had to say. My mind was floating around in a different world.

Pain suddenly erupted on the side of my head, causing me to come back from where ever my mind had taken me. I looked toward Kris, seeing that he was the one to have caused my pain.

"Ow! That hurt, Kris" I whined, as I rubbed my head where he had smacked me, with the palm of his hand, while glaring at the boy.

"Well, you were doing it again. And I think I should be the one saying ow, I mean you have the world's hardest head." He scrutinized my head, while rubbing his hand before he went back to the first topic. "You need to start listening when people are talking to you. This is why you are failing all of your classes." He scratched his head in thought "maybe you should see a doctor. It could be you have some disorder or something."

"Hey I'm not failing art!" I exclaimed, trying to defend myself.

"Oh wow you're so smart to be able to draw. A two year old can do that." I threw one of my many popcorn pieces and aimed directly toward his forehead. He ducked, then threw one of his pieces back at me. "Maybe I'll tutor you if you paid me."

"No thank you, I still remember the last time we tried doing that. You'll think for a genius, who is the reigning champion top student for three years, would know how to clean." The man was the sadist. If I got a question wrong he had made me clean a room in his apartment, and trust me that was the most brutal torture anyone could have created or thought of. You could barely walk into his house, with how filthy it is. He had his laundry covering every inch of the floor in his home, because he was too lazy to go down to the apartment complex's laundry mat. It also made me question just how many clothes this kid had. One time, I also found something that looked like meatloaf, but turned out to actually be spaghetti. How it ended up like that, the lord only knows. His home made a pig's home feel more welcome.

The sounds of cheering brought our attention back to the game. My brother's soccer team had taken the ball from the opponent and was heading down towards the other teams goal. Kris and I stood and cheered along with the rest of the crowd.

It was funny watching my brother's team play. They looked like little running, screaming blueberries. One little blueberry kicked the ball directly to my brother, who was running a little ahead of him, when a couple of the other team's players started for him. Cody, my brother and also the fastest on the team, got the ball and scored with his undersized ferocity. He looked so cute when he made his little roar face when his foot connected with the ball. I was excited when I got it perfectly on the digital camera my mom had given me for my birthday a month ago. The boys screamed and laughed like little mountain bandits who had just robbed a bank full of two tons of gold.