and my eyes changed. - original story

1 - there are flowers growing all around a massive animal inside of me

A/N: so in the desc I said each chapter would by a lyric from my fave songs and this one is angel eyes and basketball by foot ox, very good song with a super specific vibe go check it out. newayz plz enjoy

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My eyes had done this little thing whenever something happened to me. They didn't change color like some dumb tale made up by a young child, or roll to the back of my head and come out a pitch black like in cheap horror movies.

    All it was was a little flick, a little feeling in the sockets. It was like feeling the life fade in or out of them, although telling the difference was a bit difficult. It wasn't very special, just something I notice and think of time to time. I've never tried to figure out why it happened.

    I'm currently staring at the ceiling, post-mental breakdown. I hadn't bothered to wipe the dried tears from my face, as if there were many dry spots on the sleeves of my sweater to wipe them either way. I reached for my phone, checking the time, which read 4:42 A.M. Staying up as late as these hours weren't much of an achievement if you cried for two hours straight, even if you get extraordinarily tired afterwards.

   I roll on my back again, blinking mindlessly as I think about my next move. The birds chirping remind me that it is in fact winter, and as much as I wanted to strangle the birds, it was comforting to hear them. The birds mocked me, but they always came back for me, perched on a power line outside my window.

    It's Christmas break and I believe I'm home alone, as much as a non-morning person I was, I quite enjoyed walking around my house alone at ungodly morning hours, lit only by the faint light of the sun, filtering a lovely muted blue. It was something I always looked forward to.

    As I walk to the fridge to pour myself a cup of tea, the pictures hanging from the fridge stare at me. My family, my mom, my dad, my little sister, my older brother, and me.

    My mother was a stern woman; she didn't take bullshit from anyone, but when it was something she stood for, she was very stubborn. She allowed little room for explanation, making arguing with her quite hard, but I loved her nonetheless. Her straight, pale brown hair waterfalling over her shoulders. Of course, a drawing done by a six year old couldn't replicate her beauty, so I resorted to the recent wedding picture of her to the left.

    There wasn't much to say about my father. He loved us and that was what mattered. I had barely nothing to describe my father to new people, but all I could say was "He's nice". He was quite nice in all seriousness, buying me and my siblings gifts from time to time, taking us mini golfing, good stuff.

    My little sister, Lucy, was tolerable, thank god. She understood people's feelings, for as much as a six year old could. I was just thankful she wasn't annoying to the point of insanity.

    My older brother Alex on the other hand, was Lucy's polar opposite, not understanding a thing about personal space and this wonderful thing called 'inside voices'. He's extraordinarily competitive, and he wasn't about to start shit with a six year old, so his only other option was me. Luckily, he went off to college just a couple months ago. I still miss him though, as annoying as he was.

    And me, Raymond. 17, in my junior year of high school. It was hellish, but at least I came out funny on the other side. My friends and Lucy were basically the only ones keeping me alive, due to my deteriorating relationship with my parents. I stayed in my lane for the most part, barely talking anywhere outside my room, living life without causing many problems.