Anti

5: Damien

Classes are so boring, after my unenlightening class in philosophy I decide to head to the performance lab. I put on a white tank top and black sweatpants, so that I don't sweat through my other clothes. The performance lab is like the beacon of hope for douchebags. It's a great place to get buff and take sexy photos for social media. Sexy photos boost the likes like nothing else. I think that is the sole purpose of social media; to post pictures that make you seem hot. I walk into the performance lab. There are three walls with white paint that has been gashed by idiots throwing dumbbells and mistreating the equipment in general. There is one wall that is just a mirror. I think it is there for you to make sure you are using the correct form, but most guys just use it to admire themselves. Narcissus and his clones. That's all we are, all of us high school cool guys. We are all just Narcissus. The floor is an ugly pinkish coral linoleum tile, which reminds you that you are still in school. I pick up the thirty pound weight with my left handcart it. Perfect working out mirror selfie. I take my phone out of my pocket and snap a picture of myself in the mirror. I look down to conceal my eyes just leaving hair, a shadow, and a smile. Not to mention my incredibly large bicep. I post it with a couple of disgustingly douchey hashtags: #BeastMode #GetFitOrDieTrying and then I put my phone back in my pocket. I look in the mirror, I see the world around me and I see myself. Light brown hair, clear skin, and light blue eyes that have no depth and just reflect what they see. Shallow. My grandmother once told me that a shallow man only sees what is in front of him and a wise man sees what is happening now. I look down at the floor I see the reflection of the recessed lighting on the floor and then my shadow layered on top of it. I grab another thirty pound weight and do a few exercises. Dumbbell Russian twists followed by renegade rows followed by even more difficult exercises. With each set of exercises, my hair loses its shape as sweat defeats the hair gel I applied earlier. I feel my arm muscles straining as I do more and more. My vision becomes blurry as sweat drips from my forehead. I put away the dumbbells and go to the punching bag part of the performance lab. The bag is black with the company's name in white lettering. It is filled with tons of sand and duct tape marks the places where it was hit hard. I imagine what it must be like when you hit something so hard it bursts. Imagining is hard, why imagine when you can see it for yourself. I check the future to see when it will burst next. I see a bunch of older kids standing around cheering and shouting as one guy punches the punching bag. He throws jabs and crosses, but a devastating left hook is what kills the punching bag. Sand spills all over the floor and the bag is nothing, but a gash and black fabric. The sound as the side of his fist hits the bag is loud, but a short and sharp shock. Is that how she will die? Is that how my grandmother will die? Will it just be a single sharp shock? When I looked to the future to see when her death was that die I promised myself I would not look at what will cause her death. I must wait for it to happen. I want to the man who doesn't just look at what is in front of him. I want to be the man who sees everything. I have become handicapped by my power. I use it for everything and I rely on it over instinct. I've become addicted to using it and it makes me sad when I use it. It reminds me that none of us have free will. We all have a preset destiny that we can't change. My only ability is that I get to see the sorrow before it happens and see the shallow reactions of the people around me before they do anything. I guess my grandmother's actions are heartfelt, but everyone else is shallow. Her deep green eyes appear in my mind. Deep and beautiful like a lush forest. Her eyes are so deep, you can't see the bottom of them. Her eyes don't reflect back what she sees, they hold something more introspective and powerful. I focus my thoughts back to reality. I stare back at the punching bag and clench my fist. I throw a jab and follow it with a hook. I probably should have put on boxing gloves before using the punching bag I realize after feeling a slight sting on my knuckles when my hand hits the bag. I should have used my powers to know I should have put on gloves or basic intelligence. Whatever. Doesn't matter anyway it was destined to happen. I punch the bag again. An image of the dark haired girl flashes through my head. I strike it again. A picture of my grandmother flickers in front of my eyes. Her snow and ash colored hair over her wrinkled skin, but those deep green eyes are what stay ingrained in my memory. Jab. The girl with the dark hair. Cross. My grandmother. Jab. The girl with the dark hair. Cross. My grandmother. The tempo of the punches increase and with it the speed of the flickering images. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. With each punch the stinging pain in my fists gets worse. It feels as though I got a mosquito bite that I picked to death. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. The images of the two women now flicker on top of each other. Both pictures share one thing in common. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. Their eyes are exactly the same. I sink to the floor. I rub my hands on the hideous cold linoleum tile. Their eyes are the same. I look down at the floor and my throat constricts. I am tempted to look to the future for meaning, but no I can't. Life is starting to get interesting. I can't be like the kid who peeks at his Christmas presents too early and is then disappointed by the contents. I just need to forget what I saw today. Forget the girls who share eyes. I hit the showers to clean up and redo my hair. When I turn on the faucet, I leave it on cold to shock me out of my post vision excitement. The cold water does the trick and I am just left freezing cold with goosebumps in the shower stall. I just do a quick rinse in order to get out of the cold shower as quickly as possible. I don't turn on the hot water because that allows me to indulge in my thoughts and I'll be sucked right back into it. Since I have a free period after lunch, I decide to blow dry my hair. I put it on a high power and medium heat. The warm wind dries my hair in almost no time. I look in the mirror while gelding my hair and the n coming it. I do my signature hairstyle and then put my nicer clothes on. White hoodie, gold chain, and designer blue jeans. I look slick. I check the future to see if I will be late to my class after this free period. A receive a vision of me showing up right on time. That will be a first and now I can do whatever I want for the rest of the free period. I look back at my reflection and snap both my fingers at it with a cheesy smile. It copies what I do and I exit the locker room. I pull out my phone to text my girlfriend.