Cas + Cas

chapter one

You wouldn't be wrong if you presumed that I was depressed, but that's not exactly true. I'm not denying these accusations, but I like to look at it as social anxiety. It's not that I fear people, I actually enjoy watching people act like idiots. It's just my brain and I don't always like to agree with each other.

Most people just assume that I'm really shy and quiet. Actually, when my mind approves you I will be a totally different person. For right now, though, I have no friends, because my mind doesn't like anyone on this earth. This is why I have yet (yet being I'm almost a senior) made one true friend.

I want friends. I want to have that one friend who I can tell all my deep dark secrets to and barge into their house, ransack their cabinets for food, throw my feet up on their couch while the TV plays some reality show because I'm too lazy to change the channel. I just want someone to let me in. Let me come into their world and let my brain authorize you.

But that's just a distant dream in my fantasy world.

That may be why I'm sitting in the cafeteria lunchroom with a Mystery Machine lunchbox and a black hoodie draped over my head. It keeps all the perverts away. I mean not that they would even consider coming over here in the first place, but it's just an excuse to keep my parents off my back about it.

The soggy peanut butter sandwich in my hand isn't even that good, but I refuse to eat cafeteria food. I can remember two cases in which people, or as I like to call them, barbarians, found roaches in their salads. It's just so disgusting. It happened two too many times.

I stalk, erm, watch the people in front of me make googly eyes at each other. It's two freshmen, they're right at the peak of turning fifteen. It's adorable, yet cruel at the same time. High school puts too much pressure on barbarians to put themselves in a relationship. This is how teen pregnancies happen. It seems like someone other than me would catch onto this.

The boy leans over and bumps the girl's shoulder. It looked really painful, and I think I saw the girl grimace. She returns the bump and starts a conversation. Really? That was supposed to be "romantic"? Notice the air quotes around romantic.

Dun dun. Dun dun. Dun dun.

Suddenly I feel safe. Unlike before when everyone could see me and my facial expressions. The bass line of my favorite song starts to play. The bass line is like a barrier that surrounds the person it's feeding into. It surrounds me and protects me from the people out in the real world. It's like my utopia. It's all mine.

And I know.

There's nothing I can say.

To change that part.

To change that part.

Suddenly my foot starts to tap to the familiar crashing noise.

So many bright lights to cast a shadow.

But can I speak.

Well is it hard understanding.

I'm incomplete.

I can feel my head start to bob along with my foot. In this moment, I don't even care that people can see me acting like this. The music blocks it all out. It blocks the negativity that my brain picks up and slams at my face. I close my eyes.

I listen to the wondrous vocals of Gerard Way for another two minutes, and I open my eyes. For a split second I can see all the faces staring at me, judging me, laughing at me, but then the feeling's gone. The bass line has encumbered around me and is protecting me.

I take a deep breath and look around. My stomach drops about three skyscrapers when I see a guy staring at me with wide pale green eyes. He looks so casual with a fork in hand and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. My heart begins to beat faster and thoughts start flooding through my mind.

He's judging you.

He thinks you're an idiot.

He's laughing at you.

You're different, so why wouldn't he be smiling at you?

He knows you made a bad grade on the last test.

He knows you still sleep with a stuffed cat you've had since you were two.

I start to shake, but not because of the music. I can feel my heart racing. No, racing is a considerable adverb. I can feel my heart start tearing away at my chest and ripping my flesh. I try to focus my attention on something else. However, it doesn't work. I keep shaking. Slowly and unnoticeable I place the rest of my soggy lunch into my lunchbox and run out of the cafeteria.

When my feet hit the floor I feel like I'm going to topple over, but I never do. I find a vacant corner and shove my back against it. A tear falls down my face. I shouldn't be crying. I can't be crying.

I wrap my abnormally long arms around my knees, so that I'm a ball of flesh and hair. Placing my head on my arms, my eyes close and the bass line barriers feeds back into me. It protects me again.

"I thought you would always have my back." I whisper to myself.