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dear connor murphy (connor vent)

Title: dear connor murphy
Genre: angst
Storyline: connor vent (written as a chapter from the book)
Additional Info: made for school (technically)
Word Count: 2636

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I wish I said goodbye and I really did try but the agonizing dread that cut through me was enough to push me over the edge. As I lay in the grass in that park, mouth frothing, blood draining quickly from every inch of my body and the pill bottle still in my hand. I'd never tell anyone, even if I could, but the folded up paper in my pocket were my thoughts even if they weren't typed up by me. The only thing I would have changed was the one who it was addressed to; Evan and I hadn't spoken since one day in second grade where he knocked over my jar of balled up paper and I almost had an outburst at him but managed to hold it in. It should have been to Miguel. It should have always been to Miguel. He might not have wanted anything to do with me and neither of my parents would have known who to give it to but I would have known. I would have known... 

'Dear Miguel Garcia, 
Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year, because why would it be?
I know, because there’s Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don’t even know, and doesn’t know me. Maybe if I could just talk to her. Maybe nothing would be different at all. I wish everything was different.
I wish I was part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean face it, would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?
Sincerely,
Connor Murphy'

The letter would also be handwritten for his sake. He was never able to read typed letters, it made him feel that they weren't personalised which was odd considering his love for all things literature yet his avid hatred for post. Maybe I could add some kisses at the end, a joking ‘xox’ for him to laugh at through the hopeful pain he’d feel. I would also do a doodle of some weed or a few sketches of us together but I'd hope that Cynthia and Larry wouldn't pay too much attention to them. Ever since I was expelled from Hanover in my Sophomore years they refused to let me anywhere near him but we always tried our hardest to meet in private, get up to our own activities. I might have mentioned the birthmark on his neck and how I loved to trace it along with every freckle on his chest. I may have also said that I wish I hadn't run from him on that night, I always wanted to love him and hold him and date him but something about him going in for that kiss revealed a fear that I didn't know I held. I still love him but now I'll never be able to tell him.

Evan is their son now. He might not admit it but I know that when I see them together, they are much closer than I could ever be with them. I miss it, though. The silent acknowledgment that they wouldn’t talk to me after a panic attack or when I came home devastated. He’s more of a son than I could ever be; his anxiety gave him a softer aura that they babied when all I would do was brush them away, his stutters and the smiles he gives to make himself seem more open contrasted against the snappy comebacks I’d fire at everyone and everything (except Miguel for that brief period we could be together without worries or labels). If I could go back, I’d change, maybe, but they get what they deserve.

I always wished that people would go to Connor Murphy when they needed something but as the demons warped around my mind I pushed more and more people away. I became the person I wished to destroy; the one who would ‘throw printers at teachers’ (or so stories said), the one who couldn’t make friends with anyone because he’d ‘bring them down to his level’. Everyone seemed to think that I enjoyed being lonely when the constant whispering in my ear of monsters that lived deep within me would cry out that the only reason everyone avoided me was simply because I was me. I was Connor Murphy and, for whatever reason, no one liked Connor Murphy. Maybe if I’d lightened up…