The Sleepless Moon

10. Fear of the darkness and loneliness

Yeah, I may have thrown a party or two, but nothing more. People don't really like me so no one comes to my parties anyway. I mean they don't actually care who is organizing the party, as long as they can drink, dance, do drugs, and have sex in my rooms. Yeah, one of many reasons why I stopped throwing parties. I don't want anyone's erection in my room. But butler is there to change all the sheets, to clean the mess they make, the broken things, that someone drunk must have knocked out by an accident. Whatever.

But the truth is that not many people like me actually, even though I'm the rugby captain. They are all afraid that I'd punch them whenever they say something wrong. I was suspended when I had beaten Khalid. But the motherfucking son of a bitch deserved it. He betrayed me. I trusted him and opened my soul to him, yet he dared to use my vulnerability against me, throwing it in my face, laughing. In school, everyone started pitying me, and someone even mocked me that I should go counseling because of my anger issues. And before Khalid did that I'd never been violent in school. Only at my house, punching my bag in my house gym. But after I found out that he told everyone my issues, my deepest and saddest thoughts, and how mommy and daddy don't treat him right, I lost it. I couldn't see anything as I started punching his big black muzzle. I couldn't hear his cries and see kids' phones recording my outburst. And security barely somehow managed to pull me off him and afterward I was suspended.

Where were my parents then? God knows. In Toronto, Tokyo, Vienna, I have no fucking idea. But they never found out because they came back a month later, when everything was already forgotten, so the principal didn't even call them when they came back, to scold me to them. When he first tried to reach them over a phone, still with me sitting in his office, jigging my leg up and down, angry that they pulled me from Khalid, and didn't let me finish breaking all of his bones, they said that they were in a big business and couldn't talk. My dad said quote: We will pay for everything that Jason broke, and whatever stupid thing he had done, we will send a cheque. You won't be damaged, nor the family of that boy. We will send a cheque to them, as well. And he hung up. That was the moment when the principal realized that I was a lost cause, for which not even his parents care, so he just shook his head, and told me that I was suspended for a week.

After I came back, I got into two more fights and got suspended again. Over the past two years, I had caused so many fights, only to make the principal call my parents, hoping that someday they are going to be pissed and come to scold me. Anything, I'd even bear spanking from father, but they didn't show up. Dad just sends some cheque with a big amount of money, so the principal even though he wanted to, couldn't throw me out of the school.

So, yeah, seems like my parents know what kind of bastard I am. That maybe is the reason why they always try to avoid me. So they don't have to look at their aggressive son, who keeps ruining their reputation. The reputation they're building all over Europa and Asia. Maybe they go on trips so they don't have to deal with me. I don't know, this crossed my mind, too. Whatever is the reason, I hate it. And I tried to draw their attention with too many things, so maybe I should stop doing that since nothing worked. I still haven't gotten into any fight since the beginning of the senior year. And I maybe won't because fights probably aren't the way to bring my parents back. But maybe nothing is.

I open the first bottle but quickly close it. I take a pic of them together and put it on my Instagram story. Why? Maybe my parents' attention can't be drew, but someone else's can.

I type Me, myself, and these babies and I click add to your story. It's pathetic when you think that if you put something disturbing on your story, someone may reply, asking how are you. We live in this era of social media when people don't care about the look on your face, but about your Instagram, photos, likes, comments, and followers. They see how we look through Instagram, they don't bother to look at us in real life, because they are perfectly aware that life through Instagram is way better. Everyone is perfect, everyone is beautiful, pretty, and amazing. They decide what kind of person we are by how many followers and likes on photos we have. They find out what matters in our lives, by our stories, highlighted stories, or people we tag. But I have no one to tag.