Death of the Perfect Girl

47- The Too Aware

Fisher and Charlie sat on his bed.

"So," Charlie opened his bag and pulled out his notebook," do you have any poems that you can show me?"

Fisher shook his head. "I honestly don't. I hate writing poetry. It's weird."

"Really?" Charlie raised his brows flipping through his book of poems. "I'm not offended."

Fisher's mouth formed an "O". "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Why did you join the club then?"

"Poppy thought it would be fun. I'm doing...everything she thinks is fun lately."

Charlie looked at Fisher with furrowed brows. "You don't share common interests?"

Fisher shrugged. "I hate paint...I hate bright colors....I hate it when she chews gum because she pops it all the time..."

"You said you liked her-"

"I do, but we're nothing alike. We're incompatible."

"Well," Charlie looked down at his book again," it's possible to like someone nothing like you. That's why some people break up even though they love eachother. My parents did it," he shrugged.

"And how has that made you feel?"

"I understand them. I understand the reason why they did it. I just wish people would marry someone they know they're compatible with. People marry for the wrong reasons these days."

"Are you thinking about getting married in the future?"

"Honestly, whoever the girl is has to have one hell of a brain to be able to tolerate my crazy mind."

Fisher chuckled.

Charlie stopped on a page. "Found one."

"One what?"

"One of my poems. My therapist told me to write my feelings down, so I write them as art."

"Awesome," Fisher nodded slowly feeling a little awkward.

"I'm not telling you that I have a therapist to sound cool and edgy. Because it's not cool or edgy. It's f*cking sad. Being depressed is f*cling sad. Having to take drugs to fake your happiness is just straight up f*cking sad."

Fisher held his breath. "Was that-was that the poem?"

"No. I'll...," Charlie took a deep breath. "I'll read it now. It's called Nothing Matters Until it Does." He looked at his book. "NEWS. News. Wait for the news. Wait for the REPORTER to tell you the NEWS. Wait for the sign to tell you to CRY. WEEP. SCREAM! APPLAUD! Applaud me. Applaud the chaos. Because it isn't chaos. There is no chaos. Not with you. Your world is perfect. You're fine. NOTHING MATTERS UNTIL IT DOES." Charlie looked at Fisher. He looked baffled.

"Wow," he cleared his throat," poetry really is weird. I don't get what I just heard," Fisher let out a nervous chuckle.

"It's about how we as a society depend on the news for everything. We wait for the news and watch tv and hear laugh tracks on unfunny jokes and think we're stupid for not laughing. It's like we're programmed to react in certain ways even if we don't agree with something."

"Are you...a conservative?"

"Because I think news lies to us sometimes? No. I'm neither conservative nor liberal. I don't support anything. I don't support black lives matter because I don't agree with everything they do, but I stand by most of their principles. I support equal rights for the lgbt community but I am not exactly going to wear a rainbow colored shirt to say that I do. And I definitely do not support modern-day feminists. Because they're f*cking crazy."