The Jesus of Suburbia

Outsider

Staring into the abyss of the night. Alone between the glistening stars in the sky, with nothing caging me in, but the infinite borders of the dark sky. That's how I spend most of my time in this abysmal place; On the rooftop, enjoying the company of throbbing music.

Music is how I deal with my anger. An ire that was caused by my nonexistent father figure, my mother's death, and my so-called grandparents dumping me into this hell hole.

One day I'll get out of here, and when this day comes, I'll be parading my middle fingers in front of everyone yelling 'good riddance and fuck you all,' but in the meantime I guess, I'll patiently wait here.

As the breezy wind kisses my forehead with every one of its gusts, my mind and thoughts wander off to one thing, tomorrow. The pit of my stomach flutters and my lips curl up into a smile while my head plays a possible scenario of tomorrow's event.

I imagine myself a few feet away from the stage, lost in the mosh pit, laughing, singing, and pushing people around as I get pushed myself. Suddenly the music stops and Billie Joe asks for someone in the audience to perform with him and the guys. My arm jolts up and his eyes quickly spot me, he calls me on stage, asks me my name, laughs when he finds out it's Billie, and we start singing Basket Case together.

I open my eyes with a wide grin which quickly descends into a sad, sympathetic one.

I observe as the cloud of smoke I huffed out dissipates into thin air. I don't occasionally smoke, but when my thoughts start taking their toll on me, the first thing I result to is cigarettes. And for the first time in years, I'm not damaging my lungs because I'm tense, but because I'm afraid.

I'm afraid that the tiny bits of hope and happiness that I'm holding onto will get crushed, because whenever I think I see a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, life switches it with droplets of shit.

You see, I like to think of life as the mean bitch in every high school movie, it makes you believe you're on the same boat together, two buddies surfing the same wave until its true colors show. It begins to push you around, make fun of you, and bully you, and when you finally develop the guts to stand up in its face, it laughs in yours before marking your cheek with its fake nails.

Trust me, I concluded that from personal experience.

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