It was the beginning of xxxx and I've promised myself I would be quiet and to myself the whole school year.
Well that plan failed.
And I got myself in more shit that I could handle.
There's this boy. In my xxxxxx x b-day class.
In my head I call him w.w.e boy. No, not because he's buff. Or loud. Or a wrestler.
~Washy
~Weed
~Emaciated
He's thin and fragile looking, his eyes look weak and kind of sad, he looks like he smokes a pound before class, and he looks pale and tired, while still emitting such a dark chocolate radiance.
We go out once a week to the park whenever I have money. To smoke. And laugh. And kind of forget our homes.
Well, I do anyways. He may just come to smoke with me.
But those moments are becoming vital. Like water.
And he's getting more aggressive. Like fire.
Fire and water don't mix. But he keeps growing bigger, consuming me and soon we might break the barrier even more.
Go further.
But maybe that's me too.
Maybe he's just playing with me.
Every time, he messes with me.
Every time, the teacher yells..
Every time, he takes my water bottle.
I need a drink of water.
