Can You Keep A Secret (Denis Stoff)

17

I sat on a park bench, thinking and smoking. The temptation to put the cigarette against my skin was strong. But I didn't deserve it. If anyone should be hurting themselves, it should be Lily. She's had it so rough. And what did she tell me? That I'm an asshole! It's true, and assholes don't get to feel sorry for themselves. I'm not worthy of self-harm or suicide. I brought it all on myself. The only reason why I have no friends is because no one can stand to hang out with me. 

I didn't know what else to do. I just began laughing hysterically. A laugh for the broken. A laugh for the pity. A laugh for death. I laughed and laughed and laughed. I laughed until everything hurt. And then I stopped. I dropped my cigarette and left with my hands in my pockets. It's too bad I'm in the States. I could really use an emotionally unstable conversation with Ryan right about now. 

I took out my phone and called her. It rang, but she never picked up. All I got was her answering machine. "Hey, you've reached Ryan Summers. I'd appreciate it if you'd call my agent instead. If this is a personal call, I'll call you back as soon as I can. Leave a message!"

"Hey, Ry. It's Denis. I could really use someone to talk to right about now. Please call me back." I hung up, shaking my head. There's no way that she'd actually call me back. I wondered through the streets of whatever town we were in, looking at everyone who had someone to be with or somewhere to be. I could have that too. If only I'd just been a better person. No one approached me, which was less than normal. Usually I'd have at least one fan. I guess they're all camping at the venue. 

My phone rang in that moment, and I picked it up immediately. "Who is this?"

"It's Ryan. What's the matter?"

"Lily told me something that really made me think. I'm an inconsiderate jerk who blames everyone else for their problems. It's costing me everything, too. How do I fix it?"

There was a silence. "Lily's a jerk, you know that? She changes her mind about things way too often."

"She's my best friend."

"And I don't like her. What's the problem here? If you have a problem with her, then you should work it out with her. The only advice that I can give to you is maybe dial it back on the moodiness. You're worse than pubescent drama queens."

I sighed. "Fine, fine. Whatever. Thanks." I hung up before she could say anything more. I was really hoping that that conversation would be a bit more fruitful. Apparently I'm not that lucky. I don't know how to fix my emotions though. I wish that I could say that I did. 

Or maybe I just need to pretend. I've always wanted to get into acting. This could be the perfect opportunity to show off those abilities, and find out if I'm good at it or not.