Hey There, Delilah

Ch28 •Word Vomit•

My brain is never silent never still. Thoughts don't stop, even when I'm asleep. Craziness interrupts my restful mind throughout my dreams, and are there for me when I am awake. The only time that my mind will shut the fuck up, is when I am dead.

I wonder about death a lot. Although the concept of death is petrifying, it is also interesting. I wonder who will be there to grieve my passing? Will anyone? What will they say? To those who will only come forward when I am dead to grieve me, fuck off, go suck a fat cock. I don't need your pity or fake tears. I want my true friends to actually feel sad that I am no longer here. So I guess Tyler. Tyler is my only real friend left.

After Delilah left I told myself to not be that kid that only has one friend, but here I am being a fucking loser. I kept trying to initiate things with people as I walked by. I smiled at them, but it only resulted in people glaring at me and scoffing at my attempts. I was a passive friend maker. The only time I paid attention to people was to ask what the test was on or if they could take off their ears so that I could see the board.

There were several people that were expressing themselves through their furry outfits, and I was the only one that accepted and even let them embrace their style of choice. Was it weird? fuck yeah, Did it make me uncomfortable? Everyday. But at that point in my Junior year, nothing made sense, everything was array and it was just easier to not question the shit that people do. As long as people aren't hurting themselves or others, they should be able to do whatever the fuck they want.

Unfortunately, 99% of people in the great ol' town of shitscreek didn't agree with me. Everyone had something to say about everything, and everyone was up everyone else's asshole about whatever they did.

I had a neighbor that never spoke, looked, or acknowledge my existence, and Sophomore year she mentioned that it was time for me to trim my hair. I was riding home on my bike and she called out, "Hey!! Hair is getting a lil' long don't ya' think?!" She stood on her porch with her arms crossed. I wasn't sure what to do. My own mother didn't even care in Sophomore year what I looked like, and this white suburban mother, who was probably named Karen, felt the need to shit on my looks when I was innocently passing by. I gave her a wave which was mostly just my middle finger, and pedaled away.

She was astonished by my obscene gesture, and returned back into her manor. I was a little shit sophomore year, and took my mother's negligence as permission to be a douche to anyone and everyone. That lady though, probably named Karen, she deserved it.

I told my mom about that encounter earlier Junior year and she slightly laughed to herself. "Mrs. Whiteside, that woman, her husband cheated on her with their cleaning lady." She had to stop herself, but it was clear that she was tickled by the misfortune of that entitled bitch.

To those who say Anxiety and ADHD aren't a real thing, who sucked you off wrong? You don't fucking know what shit you are talking about until your mind makes you question literally everything. And you get distracted by everything. ADHD isn't just day dreaming, it's a constant battle to remember shit, focus on shit, and a constant battle to keep your head from hurting from all the useless thoughts. Sigh. I hadn't really let myself think about Tyler sticking it into two separate girls, but it was getting to me.

Everything got to me. The thing I said to the girl in Second grade when I tried to get her to be my valentine, or the way the boy laughed in my face when I asked him to be my valentine in third grade. Oh, but we can't forget the way my voice cracked on the first day of school in Sixth grade and then everyone laughed at me for the rest of the year. It wasn't possible to forget any shit that I might have done, anything that was remotely embarrassing or something that I wanted to never relive. It was like my mind made video compilations of all of my fuck ups and they were just on rewind. Delilah always tried to get me to "chill out" or "fucking relax" but it wasn't something I had much control over. Anxiety took the few things that you may have done that caused you to feel embarrassed, and it reminded you when you tried to fall asleep, or when you were starting to like yourself.