Elevator music. A solid steel box. A wooden handrail clenched by the hands of an anxious teenager. My hands. No polish. No glamour. Calluses covered the pads that were worn with overuse. My narrations stop as my mother annoyingly decides to interrupt.
"Now, none of your fits while we're down there, alright?" My mother commands and I try to give my usual barest hint of agnoledgement. "Clary."
"Fine."
"Make sure of it."
To her I am a waste, a useless piece of human being that never received what actually made her human. Humans are an unusual species for many reasons but particularly for the reason of their desire for human contact. I have none. Or more, no ability to have that contact. My social anxiety keeps me from doing that.
By the time this finishes circling my head, the elevator has reached the Proper level and I have to make my venture to the world of common people. 'Good song' I think to my self and the My chemical romance remix begins to make its way through my head. It helps calm me down but there is still my hardest endeavor to come. The first step. My first in so long that brings me to the menagerie that is the Silvertown mall. Not Silverton, Silvertown. Its a stupid name to a stupid town full of stupid people who won't accept that there has been ABSOLUTELY NO SILVER WHATSOEVER IN THIS GODFORSAKEN TOWN! No one is wealthy enough!
So I finally get there, the destination of my journey, a thrift shop. But not your normal thrift store, this one looks like a normal store so "it doesn't make us look poor". But we are poor, even for this town, so that really doesn't work. We enter and I head directly to the boys department for shorts. It seems like this store has nothing but three sizes and four colors. I try on a pair of medium shorts. Too short and to wide. The life of an introvert. I decide that I'll take the mediums and if push came to shove there were always shoelaces. I move onto the shirts. T-shirts, polo's, and neglected hiking gear litter the bins and I dig through looking for a muscle shirt.
"Can I help you with anything?"
No. No. NO. NO. NO. PEOPLE WHY ARE THERE PEOPLE ME GO AWA-
"We're fine, sir."
I hear a blurred sound mumble in the distance, bocked out by the silent screaming in my head and the sound of by lightning heart. How can words blur like pictures? I wonder. Then the world blurs with the words and I'm falling to the thoughts of twisted combinations with words and worlds.
Then there are only two words. Go away.
My shoulder is being shaken and a bag is pressed into my hands and I'm being told to breath. What's breathing? Then I remember, Its slower than what I'm doing now. The same pattern just... slower.
Finaly I can breath well enough to see but then i realize that I can't really see because I'm crying. Why? Thats it, I'm done. I want to go home. And thats where I go. I dont think, I dont talk, I couldn't even breath most of the time but I went home and that was where I stayed.
Thats where I'm staying.
YOU ARE READING
