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SIATSIA Excerpt 5

April 18, 2013

David and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day June 4, 2009

the rents are out for the night doing dinner and a play and drinks, so i’m on the porch, drinking wine. a nice reprieve from shitty, rainy weather, even though it’s cold. but that’s the only reprieve.

i’m laying here, waiting for the sun to set and the stars to come out, wishing i could just pull it together enough to call someone, anyone. but then, i start thinking, if i call leo, he can probably get me some percs. ohhhhhhh, or some valium. probably not the best idea after a bottle of wine, but hey. doesn’t matter. the guys are all at rehearsal anyway, and i lost my lab partner’s number.

(my head feels so fuzzy these days. too many meds, and they don’t seem to help anything, but just make my head all fuzzy and unclear. i’m no better, no worse. just full of extra chemicals that i don’t really want to take for the rest of my life: mood stabilizers that don’t stabilize. what’s the fucking point? when i sit here with my arms crossed and just thinking, i feel like someone has their hands around my wrists, pulling my arms away, tucking my hands into fists to punch and punch and punch again. and i couldn’t stop that pull even if i wanted to. again, i think i should call someone, but i don’t really want to. i’m SUPPOSED to call someone. while i’m thinking about all this, i have this warmth that spreads through me at the thought of splitting my head open at the side off of the wooden floor out here. it’s extraordinarily comforting, except that i’d probably kill myself and end up shitting myself, which is embarrassing and never good, mostly in the opposite order, though. and so ends the reverie.)

*good strong head shake and another glass of wine*

wow. i got lost there. i think i drooled on myself. i thought i was just typing, but it’s been 45 minutes since i last looked at the time here. gotta clear my head, then finish this post… i really had a point. i did.

it’s just, like, is nothing fucking sacred, you know? like, which one of bryan’s asshole facebook friends spread it around school that he’s gay, huh? or was it one of mine? is this my fault? someone did, anyway, and i’m betting 10 to 1 that it was Paul who cut B’s lock and pissed in his locker. this is a whole new level of disgusting. messing with me is one thing, but DON’T TOUCH BRYAN. what’s next? flaming bags of shit on his door step? the odessa assholes administration said they’ll get him new books and a different locker, but they can’t really prove who did it. they’ll just let it go, probably thinking, ‘serves the faggot right.’ like, they’re not even going to ATTEMPT to see justice served?? come the fuck on now. 😦

i used to want to punch paul when he messed with me. now i want to kill him. it’s a whole new ballgame when you harass my SO. he hasn’t done anything WRONG.

so do we really have to watch every step now? bryan refused to use the new locker, and as of today, put all his new books in the trunk of his car. we only have a week of school left anyway. he slammed the books into the trunk, one after another, and before heading out for practice with north, he wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me quickly. “secret’s out, boyfriend. so fuck it.” i guess that was his explanation for it. after school special, indeed.

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From → fiction, SIATSIA

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