The Firefly Field Theory

|1| Honesty And Other Types of Negative Thinking: Part II

HEY!

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Also this chapter is dedicated to TiggerElise for praising me like crazy and making me feel like my work was actually worth something:) Thankyou!

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PART II:

I usually have a hard time figuring out what goes on in other peoples' head I don't feel the need to add to it by being clueless on what goes on in mine. Honesty is the only alternative . Even if at times it only makes it worse. In my moms' dictionary this harsh honesty is synonymous to negative thinking and other types of baloney. But what the hell has positive thinking ever done for sore losers anyway?

How the hell can you be positive about being a reject? I am special. Unique in my own way. That people would know me better if I give them a chance?

Lies, I'd much rather be honest to myself about it, I'm a reject, I'm not special and people will never see me different even if I throw them the chance and it hits them in the balls or breast. See how any Mom will call this depression and negative thinking? Well I call it honesty, I got over depression years ago.

In the kitchen I quickly set up my favorite breakfast which is burnt toast and a paper cup full of Nescafe's instant coffee, it's not hot favorite in the world material, but it's one of those things that you get used to so much that you begin to think there is a special connection, that this is like your thing. Redundancy always paves way for immunity.

And that is the long story short of my life; everything I like doing is just the after effect of repetition.

Mom and I live in the Dwell Apartments, Maitland Summit Orlando, Florida. Now, to clear of any confusion I live in the prettier more pompous Dwell Apartments in the area, not that I have anything against the other Dwell apartments which are also close by to Edgewater High School, and where people are obviously, dwelling, but I'm just making a point and saying I live in the more prettier and pompous ones.

I rush out of the house after mom, with my breakfast and sit down on the passenger seat of mom's Lexus. She shifts the gear to reverse and exits the parking lot and I proceed to attack my burnt toast.

She takes the I-4 and drives South of the Dwell Apartments and I, in attempt to avoid any conversation, do what I always do when she drives me to school, that being, changing stations looking for something worth listening to. I switch from a station playing Flo Rida (because Mom hates rap music), to a station playing Nikki Minaj (because Mom hates rap music), and then settle for one that is playing The Beatles. I don't know what fate brings after 'Let It Be', but I sure as hell hope it's not rap.

Mom takes the first right on our ten minute drive to school, and as always I raise my paper cup of Nescafe's instant coffee in hopes that today may be the glorious day when I actually don't spill coffee on my jeans.

As always the coffee spills and leaves a stain, as always I reach out for a tissue, and as always my jeans smell like my breakfast.

Mom keeps South and then takes the second right turn on our route causing me to I raise my paper cup once again, the coffee spills once again but I got plenty of tissues. Someday it will work.