Stupid Little Blue Haired Boy (boyxboy)

eight minus ONE. (aka SEVEN)

hey, everyone. i have an idea.

and it's nothing original, so don't get all excited.

what if everybody, picked one story, just one story they loved. and it doesn't even have to be anything special.  and just they, they shared it with two people. and those two people shared it with another two people and on and on and on. 

and eventually, that story would get huge, wouldn't it?

wouldn't that be cool? i mean, and it's not even that much work!

so, imma start with my friends story, about him and his best friend.  go check it out.  it's pretty cute.

http://www.wattpad.com/4743253-the-adventures-of-seth-and-kali-kali-is-a-duck

(i love you guys)

Enjoii!

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"Catch me if you can!" Justin taunted and darted across the parking lot.

Any danger of the cars has been long since forgotten.

I checked behind me, not sure what I was looking for, and take a risk in chasing after him.  My feet slapped the pavement with painful intensity.  I felt the rubber soles be pounded into paper thin protection.  

"Slow down!" I panted, but he didn't stop.  Once he started, Justin would never stop.  It was up to me to catch him and end the cycle.

"Slow...down," I repeated.  I couldn't keep up.  My brain pounded with the lack of food and my legs felt weak as if all energy from today's lunch had been used up already.  I sat down on the edge of the curb and rested with my head between my legs.

"Baby?"  His hand came down on my back and rubbed slow circles.  "Are you gonna be sick?"

I shook my head no and poked him between the ribs.  "Tag.  You're it."

I couldn't find it in myself to do much else.

"You ate, right?  You kept this one down."

"Yes," I promised.  

"Just keep breathing."  

Just.  Keep.  Breathing.

If only it was that easy.

"Goodbye Justin," I mumble and let him go.  

Reality is cold.  Reality is dark.  Reality is painful.

Reality is sitting up too fast in bed and having all the blood rush to the top of your skull.

My tummy growls.  It's been too long since I last ate.

I stand and slowly make my way downstairs to the kitchen.  The microwave reads 11:11.  I know that can't be right.  Justin and I stopped it on that time when we got tired of always missing our wishes.  It has to be at least one in the morning.

The only easy food in the fridge is a piece of week old birthday cake and a wilted bag of lettuce.  Anything else would require preparation and preparation would require noise.

I eat the birthday cake.  It's dry in the middle, however stops the hunger pains and the sugar makes me smile.

The one thing about depression is, it can take away my desire to eat, but it can't diminish the taste of sugar.  It's the same thing with people and alcohol.  Wine.  

We both just love the way it tastes.

I'm just a skeleton now.  I've wasted away.

Where you used to be able to count my bottom set of ribs, the entire bone structure is prominent.  It's disgusting.

I'm disgusting.

I'm an addict.  What am I addicted to?  I'm addicted to killing myself in the slowest of ways.

I can't control my addiction and I can't overcome it without the help of someone else.  I knew from the day I first held the little orange container in my hands that I wouldn't be able to force myself to swallow down the white pill each morning.  I gave it to Justin.  He'd make me take one every day before school.

The doctors swore they were working.  My parents believed in the therapy.  When, in actuality, the only thing making me better was the human I shared my life with.  

You take that away, and all your hard work goes to waste.  Just like with the puzzle of my family.

When my parents find me, I'm asleep with my head on the table, the corner of an envelope digging into my cheek.  I'm slowly shaken to consciousness.

"Damian?" my mother's voice is strangely unfamiliar.  "Damian, it's time to wake up."

Yesterday's breakdown has already faded into a memory.  Something isn't right here.  

Why can I see the sun?

"Sweetheart, you fell asleep in the kitchen.  What time did you get in last night?  Never mind that, do you want a ride with Teddy?"

No thank you.  I shake my head.

"No?  How about I make you some toast?  You've got a little while before you've got to be at school.  You are going today, aren't you?"

Yes.  I am.

"Well...you've got less time than I thought.  My how the time goes by."  She sounds like the cliché mother, the one who stays home and bakes Betty Crocker cakes from the box so that the house always smells like a bakery.  "You better shower.  That is, if your brother left you any hot water."

I take my shower, shake the water from the tips of my hair and shove it under a hood.  There's no use in doing anything else.

I'm detached.  From everything.  Nothing feels real anymore.  

It's almost as though Justin will come hurtling at me from the bushes any second.  

I'm floating above everything, and I don't know why.  In the hall, everyone just seems like they're a billion miles away.  Nobody bothers me.  Nobody even really stares.

Is this how it really is, and I've been imagining it to be worse all along?  

"Damiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!!!"  I'm knocked into the wall by a rocket.

Hey, Timmy.

He's followed by another kid, a girl.  I've seen her before, the purple and black hair hard to miss.

"Damian, this is Andrea.  She's in my art class and she's suuuuuper nice," he introduces us.

"Hey," she mumbles.  "I think I've seen you around.  You used to date Justin Sykes, right?"

Yeah.  

"He doesn't speak," Timmy tells her.  "But that's okay because he's a great listener.  He's also in my first period class.  I'll see you seventh, alright?"

Andrea smiles and allows herself to be hugged and lost in the sea of teenagers.  

He's been here a day and already found friends.  I had no lack of faith in this kid.

"How are you?  I looked for you after school, but I couldn't find you.  The teacher in fifth called your name, and just sorta shrugged when what I think was your seat remained empty.  He sat me next to you.  Is it normal for you not to show up?"

You could say that.

Every class I have with Timmy, and they're sitting him in Justin's seat already.  It almost feels like they're pushing him upon me.

"It's time to get over him, emo kid.  Here's a replacement."

Something tells me he's trying to get over someone too.

"Zachary."

"Damian?  Should we get to class?"

Yeah.  Sure.  Let's go.