The humanization process

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Eighteen years old

I threw my graduation cap into the air, smiling outwardly as all the students in the auditorium cheered for the end of their high school life. I was excited to be out of high school in a way too. I could finally live as my real self.

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"Oh, honey! I'm so proud!!!" Mother gathered my slight form in her arms, squeezing. "You finally graduated! You can move out! Go to college! Everything!" 

I went through some tough times during freshman year, many things which Mother wishes for me to forget. And she almost succeeded. Mother had enrolled me in some high school so I could socialize more and create bonds with personages other than her. I didn't like the idea when it was presented to me.

I pulled away from her. "Ma, don't freak out. It's just back to school with me. It may be college, but that's still a type of school, right?" She shrugged and handed me a bouquet of red tulips. 

"Still happy," she said before turning away to talk to a teacher. All the adults were now mingling with the graduate students that had hung around, giving "congratulations!" like gold medals and flowers like prize horses. It was all very touching... and fake at the same time. Every student knew that the hasty pictures and shirt signings would never be thought of again. Exchanged phone numbers, love confessions, letters talking of promises to stay friends-- It would all fade away, forgotten in the desk drawers or lockers of the part-time workers that most of us would become. Every youth in this auditorium would either move to some prestigious college or live with their parents and lie to friends over text that they were going to university. All in between washed out like smudged ink. 

I would fade with them, university or not. I would disappear. I would revel in the feeling of freedom from 'friends'. I would move out, maybe out of state if possible, go to college if I felt like it, and live. Finally. I did love living with dear Mother, but I wanted some space to wiggle around in, try new things, meet worthwhile people that weren't just after homework answers and free food. 

"Aye, Jhett, why ain't ya social'lizin'?" A graduate, his name was Kaleb, walked up to me and laid a hand on one slim shoulder. "This is the last time we'll be in this auditorium, make some mem'ries, kay?" 

I laughed emptily. "Yeah, I know. I will." Kaleb smiled and pushed his dark hair from his face before walking to his friend group. 

Memories, huh? 

My eyes now downcast, I muttered, "They'll just be forgotten, right?" 

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 "Yeah, Ma, I'm fine. No. I'm not getting into any trouble. I really am fine! Call me at better times! It's two in the morning over here! I was sleeping!" I hung up and turned my eyes to the floor. I just lied to Mother. I wasn't sleeping! I was getting as drunk as I possibly could, drinking away the stress of whether or not I would be accepted into the job I applied for. 

A hand laid itself gently on my cheek, turning my face toward the owner. "Come on, Jhett, it's not right to lie to your mom, you should have been nicer, you know," Nika said, a pout on her lips. "If I was ever that mean to my dad, I would get killed-- Be careful." I rolled my eyes and brushed her off. Nika was a friend from my old job at KFC, we both worked at the cashier, mechanically saying the words we had memorized whilst taking orders like it was breathing. 

That is until I was fired. The manager was a hot head and couldn't stand the smallest errors, so when I messed up on a few orders and took too long to take customer's money, she blew it and told me to walk out and never come back. It was quite comical actually. Her face was so red that she started sweating. 

Now Nika and I hung out regularly, usually to drink at some cheap bar. But tonight we had taken it to her house since our top pick for bars was overfilled.  

"Hey, don't push me like that," she whined. She lifted the can of beer she had opened to her full lips and swallowed it down without a single break to catch a breath. She crushed the empty can and threw it across the room. I calmly set my phone down on the small coffee table in front of us before picking up the TV remote and flipping the channel to Food Network. Nika huffed at the act, quietly mourning the replacement of her favorite channel. 

Plopping her bare legs on top of my lap, she laid back on the couch. "I don't even know why I hang out with you. The only channel you'll watch is Food Network, and you complain when it's not Iron Chef or Guy's Grocery Games. Get a life and a job." I frowned and pinched her thigh. She hit my shoulder with her foot, pulling down the basketball shorts she wore. "Don't!" she snapped. 

I smiled evilly and shrugged. "Your pale legs were asking for it."

"They're not pale!" 

I gave her a 'really?' look before reaching toward the coffee table and grabbing my can of beer, downing it in one go. Shoving Nika's legs off my lap, I stood and walked over to her minifridge. I opened it and grabbed out two new packs of beer before trudging back over to the couch. I sat down heavily and opened the new pack, handing a beer to Nika and claiming two. I drank them quickly, along with most of the two packs. 

Yes, there was that feeling. That warm feeling your mind and body underwent when finally noticing the effects of drunkness. "Nika," I slurred out. 

"Hmmm?" she asked drowsily. 

"I'm sleeping over."

"Mmm-kay." My eyes rolled as she answered so nonchalantly. Setting my drink on the coffee table, I laid myself out on the couch, legs intermingling with Nika. Yes, I was finally living.

But something was missing.