-------------------------------
Shi-chan: >.< This fic rather describes my mood about now. Minus the suicidal thoughts and drugs. Sorry, minna-san. -------------------------------
Escape
By Shimegami-chan
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Dark. Rated for language. OOC.
:Insanity: :Clarity: :Grief: :Pride: :Memory: :Hate: :Silence: :Glass: :Homeless: :Loneliness:
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Though I'd never admit it.
I've made too many mistakes and enjoyed it.
I'm caught in my own anger and hatred.
I hate the whole fucking world.
They say I have a problem, sons of bitches. So what if I do? It's none of their bloody buisness. They say I curse too much. Drink too much. Say too much.
Screw them all.
They won't control my life any more, those pathetic idiots. I don't need them or their lies. I'll do whatever I fucking want.
I'd kill for a cigarette right now.
Mimi called me the other day, to ask me how I was doing. I politely told her to fuck off--I was busy packing, I was getting out of this shithole forever. I don't think I meant to hurt her feelings, or maybe I did. It made me feel better to scream out loud. She cried softly on the other line, asking was I okay, did they hurt me, where was I going?
I felt like shit when she told me that Takeru was dead.
At least I stopped the stream of profanities long enough to say I was sorry, and to give my regards to Yamato. She cried a bit more, I tried to comfort, but there was nothing I could say that would make her stop. She couldn't go to the funeral, her job wouldn't alow it. Wouldn't let her take three days off to fly to Japan and see one of her closest friends' burial.
I let her know, in no uncertain terms, what I thought of the bastard that was her boss.
She gasped when I said it. Something along the lines to 'fucking cocksucker,' with some choice mumblings added. She told me not to curse. I managed to tone it down enough to say, "Why the hell not?" instead of the insult that had been lurking at the back of my mind. I couldn't upset Mimi any more. I certainly wasn't going to tell her that she had interrupted me packing to get out of the hell that was my house. She's probably want to look for me. I wasn't even sure where I was going yet, but Mimi-chan could probably figure it out.
She asked why I was being so quiet, and I realized that I had stopped speaking.
"Good-bye, Mimi." I whispered sadly.
"Wait! Michael--"
click.
I don't know why I hung up. Didn't want to hear her cry any more, I guess. She was a weakness. A liability. I wanted to help her, but I was damn well getting out of here. She was the only friend I had left anyway, and here she was being weak and breaking down just when I had resolved to talk to her about my problems.
Shit, what an asshole I am.
I'm ready to get out of here. My parents think I need to be perfect and wonderful and grow up to be just like my father. Fat chance. They don't even know that I've dropped out of school, though it's not likely to stay a secret much longer. Mimi's my only friend left, but she's such a priss sometimes--what would she say if she knew what I was really like? All I really care about is getting high and hoping I'll never come down again. Hoping it'll all end.
My so-called friends; those superficial bastards abandoned me. The girls were whores. The guys were jackasses. I couldn't take conforming to that school and their stupid 'standards' any more and I damn well told them that. They laughed, wondering aloud whether I thought I was better than them or something. Fuck, if I've gotten as bad as them I might as well just slit my wrists right now.
Mimi wonders why I make a big deal of everything. How can I not? I have to reassure myself that there's a fucking reason that I'm alive. Elsewise I would have convieniently disposed of myself long ago.
But I don't. Chickenshit, that's what I am.
I don't care if they all hate me. If they think I swear too much. If they think I'm going nowhere with my life. Too fucking bad. I'm power-happy and no one controls me but me. I don't give a shit who I step on along me way. I'll run my own damn life, thank you.
I throw my last few joints into a silver box and toss them into the duffel bag. They're better off without me, and I'm better off without them.
The phone rings.
Fuck them all.
I ignore it.