In the Absence of a Good Life

(1) The Destruction Manual

I'd just like to say thanks to glencocos_girlfriend for making my cover! I thoroughly recommend this fellow wattpader should you want a cover for your story! 

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The Screw Up (A.K.A The Boy) :

School

Write an essay about (In my mind the next word said shit- so I did)

Fuck my life.You ever wake up with a blinding headache and no recollection of the night before? I do. All the bloody time.

The sun's too bright, the birds are too loud and there's that annoying little rat that you KNOW is under the floorboards trying to make your life a living hell. Then you realise, you're not actually in that rotting cell of a flat; you're at work thinking: how the hell did I get here?

Well it doesn't matter, not really. If you go through life thinking the same question every hour, it tends to lose all meaning. You get worn down by the corrupt, boring and pointlessness of everyday living. Eventually, you surrender to it. You give up pretending to care about some fat git's in-laws selling their home. Especially when said fat git is your boss. Offence meant.

U - (unmark-able) - please see me after the lesson.

Shit. Dumb teacher's got no idea how long that stupid essay took me to write. Hold up, Miss. Forster is coming.

Step 1. Look devastated.

Teacher clears throat.

Step 2. Pretend to be so distraught at U grade and not hear (it's called selective hearing, you should try it some time).

"JAMES!"

Wow, Miss. Forster shouted!

Step 3. Pretend to be shocked.

"James, look, I know you're struggling in English okay, but teachers are here to help you! Talk to us!"

Ever heard of teacher-student confidentiality? That's 'cause it doesn't exist.

Step 4. Say: "I'm fine" do not look Miss. Forster in the eye.

"Ja..."

Final Step. Say: "I'm FINE." look the teacher directly in the eye and cross arms. Sit back in chair and glare (I'm a poet and I didn't know it).

She backs off after a nervous smile and moves onto the next student.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

This is where my problems first began to be acknowledged. The teachers at my school couldn't cope with me as a 'problem student'. I was too brash, too bothersome, they just couldn't handle me. I guess it was my fault to begin with. I acted that way on purpose. You may ask why. I say; why not?

My life was so catastrophically awful that it didn't matter if I made it worse. It wasn't actually possible to make it anymore atrocious than it already was.

The way I thought about it, was that if I acted insane, then when I got myself into a 'sticky situation', I could fake 'losing my mind', with a higher success rate. It would be more likely that people would believe me. The thing that I hadn't guessed, was that I would be expelled from a billion different schools around the country, and that every single, stinking one of them, would recommend that I went to some form of a self-help group. I had been to so many of them, that I'd lost count.

My name's James if you hadn't guessed (Bond, James Bond. I bloody wish).

Nah, it's actually James Dia. I know right, you're thinking 'what a fucking retarded name'. Well it was either that or take my dad's last name of 'Tarde' (silent 'e'). So I went for my mum's name, Dia, even though she's a junkie who's out of her mind 99% of the time. The other 1% she...