Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 3

I shut my journal closed and threw it on the tile floor out of anger. The pen I wrote with was now shaking in my unstable hands. I closed my eyes and started to cry.

"Why can't I block out those thoughts?" I whispered to myself, "Is there something I'm doing wrong?" I brought my shaking hands over my head and ran them through my short, brown, curly hair. I brought my knees up to my chest and sat there. I was hopeless.

I just want to be normal, I thought. Why can't I be normal? Why can't I think normal thoughts? Am I going to have to walk around the campus, asking people what they think about? Most of the answers I'll probably get is sex, parties, and drugs. Now, thinking of that, nobody's thoughts are normal because nobody knows the definition of 'normal'.

I just want to be regular. I want to do what people regularly do during their lifetime. Go to school, go to dances, graduate, go to college, get a job, start a family, and die of old age. With these thoughts pestering my mind, I don't think I can make that possible now.

I didn't know my mind was capable of thinking about that thing with Terra. If my mind is capable of that, what is my body capable of? Would I be able to end someone's life on purpose?

I shook my head violently, not wanting to think the worst. I don't want to know if I'm capable of killing someone. I never want to know. Now, I hope that I never have to find out.

I stared at my journal that laid there on the floor. The journal of dark thoughts, the journal of sick minds. A journal that anyone could pick up and start reading. Would it make them fear for their lives? If someone read it, would they be scared of me?

Looking at the stupid thing makes me sick. Sick at the stomach. Every time I read something I have written down on the pages, it makes my stomach churn. I wonder to myself why I would write down such awful things. My importantly, why am I thinking about these gruesome thoughts?

"Open up the damn stall! There's no toilet paper in the other." Someone started hitting the grey stall door. I quickly grabbed my notebook and scrambled to my feet. After wiping the tears off my face with my jean jacket sleeve, I reached for the lock.

I stopped. What if it's Cooper? Will I lose it again? Part of me tells me to open the door and stop being a wuss, but I have every right to be scared. I could lash out on him and beat the living shit out of him until he dies. Nobody would ever hear his screams in this bathroom. It's far away from the classrooms and almost nobody ever comes in here.

"Come on man, I don't have all day." The guy started to get impatient. I quickly opened the stall door and stared down at the floor, not wanting to see who it was. "Joey, why you actin' weird?" He asked. I looked up at him to see it was JC, one of my good buddies.

"I don't know," I lied to his face. "Well get outta there. I gotta take a shit, man." He said. I stood there, not moving. He looked at me for a moment before asking, "Is somethin' bothering you? Did anything happen to ya?"

"No," I told him. "I would love to chat more. We can if you want to see shit all over my pants." He laughed. I smiled at him. JC was always happy, no matter what situation he was in. He'd always smile and think of the best solution for things. I wonder how he does it.

"Ight, man. You gotta move." He gently pulled me out of the stall. He quickly walked into the stall and locked it behind him.

Just a few weeks ago, an old geezer was saying racial slurs towards JC. He didn't scream at the man or cuss him out. He just stood there till the man was finished and told him he was sorry that he felt that way. If I was black, I don't think I could've ever done that. Even now, with me being white, I couldn't just stand there and have someone yell racial things in JC's face. I would go up there and stand up for my friend but in the wrong way. There'd be yelling, screaming, cussing, and maybe punches would be thrown.