Angel Wings [G.F]

One ; Nervous Energy

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( edited ; July 26th, 2017 )

I hated my scraggly black hair. I hated the way it fell in my face when I hung my head down. I hated how it stayed so frizzy, no matter what I had done to it. I hated the way my fingernails grew out crooked, and the way my teeth showed when I smiled. I hated the way I talked, the way I laughed. I hated my thoughts, I hated how fat I seemed.

I guess you could say that I just hated me. There wasn't anything more, or anything less. I also hated the way I hated myself. Everyone has always told me that you shouldn't hate yourself, but I couldn't bring myself to love myself, either. And there are only two emotions you get when you feel emotions for yourself, and that was love and hate. And really, I wished I felt neither. I wished I could just feel...nothing.

Numbness. Not the numbness you got when standing out in the cold, winter air. Not the numbness you got when your hand tingled from a burn, or sticking it into something cold. I wished for the numbness that would consume me. A numbness that was every single one of your fears, and all of your tears, wrapping you up in one big blanket. The numbness where everything hit you at once, and you couldn't help except to feel nothing but all of it. That numbness is what I wanted to feel.

With a sigh, I kept my greenish-brown eyes on the ground, watching the rhythmic steps I took. They were all precautionary, I've realized. Me keeping my head low, my jacket pulled up around my ears. My eyes staying in the same place; it was all precautionary, because of certain memories that often triggered my paranoia. And today, it seemed, was one of those days when you felt only one emotion, and you just wanted to disappear into a dark corner and hide, to not have anyone see you. I felt his presence beside me, but still, he wasn't enough to keep my paranoia at bay.

Ever since I came out that I was gay, just two years ago, my life went to pure hell. My parents no longer allowed me in their house, which meant I was on the streets. The word had gotten out around school, and bullies targeted me and continuously pushed me into lockers, swung their fists at me, vile words exiting their mouths in a disgusting attempt to make me feel ashamed of how I felt. And that is how I met Pete Wentz, my current, and only friend, who took me in and made me feel loved, like I belonged.

How had I repaid him for that?

In the beginning, I continuously ran away from him, feeling like I was only weighing him down. I kept him up most nights as he tried to calm me down, screaming to get away from me. I screamed because I had a feeling in my gut that he would eventually turn into the rest of our schoolmates and hate me for who I chose to love.

I kept him on his toes, practically making him an insomniac, because my nightmares wouldn't go away. But, after that first year, he still hadn't left. And I had apologized many times for the way I acted, but he blew it off as if it were nothing. And I appreciated him, more than anything.

"Hey, Frankie? You good over there?" I heard him ask, and my head snapped up to look him in the eyes. My hair annoyingly covered my left eye, but sometimes I appreciated that, because it made it easier to hide from others, and not him. I let out a long sigh, nodding my head.

"I'm good, Pete. Don't worry. Just... thinking." I responded, putting my hand up to reassure him. He just cast me a real quick, worried glance, before an excited smile tugged at the corner of his lips, turning his cheeks into dimples. Sure, I thought Pete was cute. But I didn't feel attracted to him, as that kind of relationship. Pete... he seemed more of a cute younger brother to me.

"I almost forgot!" He said excitedly, his eyes looking into mine once more. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, trying to see if there was a slight hint to what he had gotten so excited about. "What's up, Pete?" I asked in a gentle, inquiring tone, and his face flushed as red a ripe beet.