Tyler Petrit Isn't Here | ✓

03

You're a big boy now. Put on a band aid and stop crying. 

A band aid doesn't stop the pain, just the bleeding. The scar is still there when I rip it off. I can pick at the scar until it opens again because if I was stupid enough to trip and fall, I'm big enough to endure the consequences. 

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip.

I deserve the pain. I did this to myself. 

Alaska places her hand on mine. "Ty?" 

"Hm?" 

"Your lip is bleeding." 

I run my tongue over my lips, taste blood on my teeth. "Talk about Kurt Cobain to me." 

"Why? Not that I need a reason." 

"I love seeing you happy." 

It's more than that. I love the galaxy twinkling in her eyes, how her smile grows to be too big for her face, the music she makes when she drums her fingers on the table. Her laugh is like wind chimes, peaceful and soft. She's contagious. I'd compare her to the universe, but the universe is too small, too nothing.

She makes me happy. 

She talks about Cobain's sunny yellow hair, ice blue eyes, and caramel-coated heart. "I don't care what anyone says, men with shoulder-length hair are fine." 

"Not me. I look like a fucking bum," I scoff. 

"You look grunge." 

"Isn't that kind of the same thing? Besides, the guys are just trying to look like Kurt Cobain or Eddie Vedder and the girls want to look like Winona Ryder or Janet Jackson. It's fucking stupid because the same people who promote individuality unintentionally created a style for everyone else to copy. I only look like this most of the time because I don't care about myself." 

"Well, you look laid-back. That's why you're attractive."

"Attractive, huh?" I smirk. 

"Yeah. Your eyes aren't a super bright or dark green. They're in the middle. Your freckles are like stars." She looks down. "And I don't have to prove myself to you." 

I close my notebook. "Funny, I could say the exact same about you," and I kiss Alaska goodbye.

Lunch is fuzzy. Instead of splitting everything in half, I just give it to Gio. 

"You didn't take the Ipecac, did you?" he asks. "It was just cough syrup. I got scammed." 

"That explains why it didn't do anything." I blow air from my teeth and clench my stomach. The pain will pass, and if it hurts too much, I can just eat an apple tomorrow. The longer I go without eating, the more I'll get used to this feeling. I might stop feeling hunger all together.

"Does starving work?" I ask.

"The fuck if I know, man. Probably. I dunno how girls do it. If I eat one meal a day, I feel like I'm dying."

"Say, hypothetically, I didn't eat breakfast. Does that count?"

"Don't do that to yourself."

"But would it count?"

"It's not like you're obese."

I want to say something back, something that will piss him off, but I don't. I'd feel shitty after, then I'd apologize and he'd say he didn't care. Even after I apologize, the feeling lingers. It's like I didn't do enough, my words don't matter. Apologies aren't enough, sometimes.

And I might be losing it.

"I need to get out of here," Gio says. "I want a fucking cheeseburger, man."