Tattooed Emotions

4

Phil

My black studded boots treaded down the hallway as I walked alongside Peej and Chris.

People parted for us like a sea of scared fish.

Fucking wimps.

I snarled at one, curling my lip upwards and laughing as they backed away.

Chris laughed from behind me, "Ooo Phil he totally wanted to suck your dick!"

"Ew no I'm not a fag! Creep." I shoved his whimpering frame with my toe and stepped forwards.

I hadn't always been like this. I used to be the one whimpering on the floor, actually.

But then I moved to high school, found some mates. Drugs.

They helped me.

When I had them, I was confident. Untouchable.

Not even my anxiety could reach me.

I liked having people cheer me on - support me - tell me I'm doing good.

I'd never had that.

Now I had it, I wasn't letting go.

This facade would keep me up as long as I played by the rules. As long as I kept my distance from the losers and nerds I used to know.

My tattoo flickered like a red hot fire.

This is who I am.