This was honestly really hard to write but I hope you enjoy it.
•°•{Gerard}•°•
It's a fleeting kind of feeling, love. It's apparently quite common and should happen to everyone, even if you haven't felt it yet, it'll happen someday. I call bullshit. I'm seventeen years old, I've been in at least thirteen relationships, even though I've started losing count, which only proves my point more. I've been told time and time again that one day I'll fall in love but it hasn't happened, and I feel like I should've felt something towards someone else at this point but I haven't. That's why the day I walked into a corner store with a ten dollar bill and left with a jug of orange juice, some cereal, and an obnoxiously chatty boy was so unnerving. It's not like I was trying to ignore him but I had been becoming so shut in that I just wasn't sure how to respond to most of what he was saying, apart from extremely simple questions like;
"Do you have any pets?"
"Yes"
"What school do you go to?"
"Greenwood"
"What's your favourite colour?"
"Red"
"Do you have many friends?"
"Not really"
I walked a little faster and, much to my disappointment, so did he. Once I got to the crosswalk where we could finally part ways, he asked me one last question;
"What's your name?"
A seemingly simple question with a seemingly simple answer threatening to escape through my slightly parted lips. An answer that seemed as though it wouldn't change anything, but knowing someone's name is nothing like knowing someone's face. No one would remember you if you were just 'the person walking their dog across the street from me', but once someone can place a name to your otherwise unremarkable face, they remember you. It's kind of scary to imagine being remembered and followed again, this one time was already too close and I don't know if I trust this random boy from the Seven Eleven yet and I sure as hell am not going to come here every day just to learn how to trust him.
I then realize that I had been standing there silently for a while so I simply shrug and continue walking. I can tell from the slight sigh he lets out after I walk away that he was hoping that I'd say something more than I did but I didn't have time to make small talk, I had planned a night of sitting on my bed and writing away my worries, or if my mind wandered enough, I could release my demons onto a blank sheet of paper and then drown them in ink as I drowned the screaming of my remaining emotions in music and for a few hours, everything settles into an uneasy but still peaceful state of rest. It's as close to perfect as I'll ever be and at this point, I'll take what I can get since nothing else really helps anymore. I honestly find it kind of funny that ever since the day that two timing dick moved to Washington, I've felt so numb. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm helpless without him. That's all I can think about as I walk into my room and see the ripped up photographs littering the grey carpet covered in black stains, the last reminders that I wasn't always like this. A dry, nearly emotionless laugh echoes through the otherwise silent room as I remember the last time I let myself get attached to someone. And now I finally know the truth, love is complete and utter bullshit. I'll never forget that. Some people might call me morally wrong for writing off any chance of love just because of a single breakup, but I don't care. I don't care about any of them. They can all go to hell for all I care, even Seven Eleven boy. Fucking weirdo.
I release a shallow sigh as I sit down on my bed and put my headphones on, feeling the gap between me and the rest of the world widening, and I can already tell that tonight I'll be more disconnected than ever, and I hope it stays that way. I pick up my phone and put my playlist on shuffle as I start scribbling my thoughts away in my notebook. Soon all that inhabits my brain is just the music and that constant feeling of melancholy numbness and I pray that this all will forever stay the same, because love is fleeting and pure bliss is overrated.
