bus rides.

dustin.

Dread ran through my veins as I entered through the door. I hate this house. It smells like mothballs, depression and death. Those smells aren't particularly common but that is exactly what my house smells of. We've lived here for most of my life and it still hasn't gone.

"Hello honey." The greeting is from my mother, and it isn't kind and out of motherly affection, it is out of politeness. There is no emotion behind her words. And that breaks my heart. Just like it has everyday for the last seventeen years.

"Hello, mother." I reply curtly before rushing upstairs to escape into the comfort of my own room. My room smells much better than the rest of the house, kind of like despair and expensive cologne.

I feel my eyes begin to water, and I quickly blink back the tears. Boys are supposed to be tough, right? Well then I'll follow the stereotype, no point in going against society.

I lie down on my bed, still dressed in my damp school uniform. My eyelids close slowly and I drift off into a coma-like sleep.

-

When I wake up, I feel confused. What century is this? I guess I took an unexpected nap. It's not like anyone would notice. Even if I committed suicide, it would take my screwed up family a few days to find out.

The perks of having ignorant parents?

There aren't any. And those who think it's bliss are delusional.

As I think about my parents, my mind goes back to the girl on the bus. I didn't like her. Because I don't like many people anymore. I used to. But not anymore.

Nowadays I only see the flaws in human beings, and overrule any positives.

I'm such a pessimist.