Funny (Scomiche)

Chapter 1

A/N The first chapter and idea fot the story is from Clemonlime. I read this one shot and wanted to make a story out of it. So I DID NOT WRITE THIS CHAPTER! I altered some of the words to make it more active voice, and present tense in order to write a story. Hope you like it once I start my part. Love you all!

It was funny.

Not the kind of funny that you usually think about; no comedic in any way.

Just... awkward and epiphany-type funny.

I can't explain it.

Scott and I had been friends for about a year.

It seemed like he and I had known each other for years, though.

Right in the middle of the friendship, I noticed something. I noticed something that had been staring me in the face for so long.

I wasn't happy.

I mean, yeah, I was smiling and laughing and shit like that. But I wasn't happy.

Scott eased the eerie thought somethimes, but t was still there. And I hated it.

Then, the second thoughts rooled in. The 'what ifs'.

I hoped it was a phase. I really did. I hoped that I would stop moping and stop hating everything and perk up.

But I never did.

And Scott didn't notice.

He didn't notice how I'd stop calling him nicknames. He kept calling me nicknames, but... I couldn't do it anymore.

Didn't notice how I stopped talking with anyone but him. He kept talking to other people, made friends, but I didn't feel when I tried.

He didn't notice how, when he texted me 'goodnight'... I reponded with 'goodbye'.

He didn't notice... me.

And... we drifted. Well, he did.

He kept aking friends and talking with people and making good gradesand being happy.

I satyed the same. And he forgot about me.

He didn't talk to me anymore. He didn't visit me on the weekends.

He didn't respond to my texts, he didn't look at me anymore.

So, I just gave up.

I cried... a LOT more. And I wrote depressing poems and drew depressing pictures in my notebook.

But I realized something. I realized that it was funny.

I realized that it was funny how someone could throw me away so easily.

I realized that it was funny how he seemed not to care when he saw me sitting alone at lunch during school, or how he'd find me cowering and crying in the corner of a bus stop and not do anything.

Not even an 'are you alright'.

But I was glad, because I wasn't 'alright'.

I wasn't 'okay'. I wasn't 'fine'.

But, somehow, that was always what I told myself. I tried to convince myself that it'd get better.

I never did, but my brain kept attempting to fool me.

I remember it vividly, though, the time where Scott talked to me for the first time in months.

I was sitting at a lonely table in the corner of the cafeteria, staring blankly at the seat in front of me with my hands wringing themselves in my lap. I was so close to crying, but I;d never cry at school. School was where I'd fake a smile and fake happiness. Anyhow, I had looked up to see Scott standing in front of me with excited eyes, his arm linked with whom I could only assume was his girlfriend. All that he had said was a cheerful, 'Mitch! How've you been?'