First, let me say that all of this is fictional.
In Oakhurst, California, we all want death. Especially me. Maybe it was the town, maybe it was the residents. Maybe it was just me, but I always felt like it was the town itself that was suffocating me and every other person who hated themselves as much as I did or more who lived there.
Most nights were spent online. Or on my balcony, with the screen door cracked so I could see both inside and out. Hear my mom whispering to my little sister and my brother sleeping. I could hear the crickets outside. I could hear my brother's noise maker. I could hear the rain, some nights. Others, there was no power cause mom and dad couldn't pay the bill. Those nights, the crickets and my tears kept me company.
Some nights were spent actually sleeping on the couch in my clothes. Or not sleeping. Some nights I was condemned to the indoors. I didn't much enjoy those nights.
I talked to a lot of temporary therapists. Because I felt terrible. I felt like I was worthless and I knew I was never gonna make it outta that town alive.
I can't help but think I should have stayed. I wanted to stay in the city of carbon monoxide cause it was killing me fast and I was addicted to dying. I wanted to stay for all the people who demanded me stay because I owed them money. It was untrue, of course. I always made it a point to stay out of debt. I never wanted to stay, but I had to. For the people who were were killing me. I raised my glass and toasted the only residents of the city of Carbon Monoxide that welcomed me. The crickets.
I thought of our homeless population while I was out on the balcony. How I was always just a paycheck away from joining their ranks. How they always smiled at kids. Cause kids don't have any hate in them. No one is born hating. They're conditioned to. I thought of the cigarette smell that lingered. It was everywhere. Oh man, the place reeked. My house especially. The entire town smelled like nail polish, old linens, cigarettes, prostitutes... their perfume in particular, and tears.
The cemetery was always bigger than the town. It was never any smaller. Locals like myself joked that when the town was founded there was already a cemetery the size of Delaware. I hated and loved the idea of death. The giant cemetery was a reminder of how we were all trapped there in the stupid carbon monoxide city until we inevitably died and were buried in the ever expanding cemetery.
The sights of the city weren't shit. You couldn't see the stars, but you always has a good view of the sky. So long as you looked up from the back of the person in front of you's head. You could see the stars from where I lived. A mostly abandoned cul-de-sac with only me and my family, a crazy cat lady, and a drug dealer with 16 different girlfriends and a car for each one. I saw galaxies late at night. I even watched shooting stars and prayed that my wishes would come true. They never did. Of course they didn't.
Once or twice in the summer I'd fall asleep in the back of my step dad's truck, which was always parked by the rose bush. The rose bush was a miracle in its own. It had been alive since approximately 1870 and it was only watered once a year. I'd fall asleep under that damn rose bush drowning in pillows and blankets and teenage satellites.
I would turn on my mom's portable radio to my favorite station. It played all the hit alternative from the mid 2000's and 1990's. I fell asleep to Nirvana and My Chemical Romance. I'd wake up to the truck being started and my mom yelling at me to get ready for school. I was big bitten and tired, but I dealt with the screaming only cause there was always the dreaming after.
School was Hell on earth for a kid like me. Antisocial. Bullied. It wasn't really my cup of tea to talk to any of the kids there, so I didn't. Until middle school hit and I started feeling more left out. I was colder. On the inside and the outside.
Seasons changed again. There I was, ready to graduate and leave the carbon monoxide city, but people stopped me. Accusations of "It's because you don't care about us." Surrounded me. Yeah, I didn't care. You never cared about me, either. Yeah, I wanted to leave. I didn't wanna die. But at the same time, I was well on my way to dying. My thought was if I left I'd die slower. So I tried and failed to escape the carbon monoxide city.
I wanted to leave the city so bad. It was like an hourglass. Not only sealed tight, but any time you got near where you needed to be in order to escape, some dipshit came along and tilted your glass prison again.
I contemplated moving in with my grandma. She only lived 25 miles away, but maybe once I was out I would be able to move more freely. The world consisted of Oakhurst. It was a small, shitty world, but it was mine. I shared my prison with quite a number of people. Most of them were content with living here and dying here where I was just constantly beating against the glass walls.
Like the bug, when you catch a jar full of bugs, that's always climbing the walls if the jar in a vain attempt to get free. I wanted freedom.
I thought about living with my aggressively fantastic aunt. She lived in a city called Fresno. It sucked too, but I could deal with that city's brand of torture.
A/N Whoooooooop 1005 words
