To be Frantastic

Chapter 22: Inner wars and battle scars

Wind breeze, soft pull. Tick tock, tick tock. Clear my head, curse the drive. You ran out of time, yet you have to pull it off somehow.

Take, sip, swallow. Take, sip, swallow. Never more than two. Never less than one. The dose was doubled not long ago, on the phone, by the doctor with the red hair.

They are colored blue, but not bluer than I am.

The meaning of sacrifice varies to all of us. For some, it may mean losing something you love for the greater good. For others, it may actually mean taking a toll of something you don't like, something you feel does you harm, but some way or another it's necessary. Then there's also the third kind of sacrifice, the one in which you take on a penitence, and vow not to undergo a certain emotion or feeling.

To lose, to punish and to deny. Those are the three ways in which you can make sacrifices. And none of them work unless you do it willingly, and as long as you only take away from yourself. If not, what's the point? What's the point of taking something from somebody else, what's the point of causing pain to someone other than yourself to bring good?

True nobility lies in those who hurt for those who cherish their love. Those who put others before themselves, those who can't smile unless the person on their right is smiling too, and the person to their left is laughing with joy.

I look to my right, and see nothing.

I look to my left, and it's empty.

I want to change that. I want to somehow... I don't know, really. I just want to feel like my hurting, this selfish and egoistical thing I have, this sickness... I just want to feel it's for a reason. I need to feel it's for a reason. I just want to know that. Somehow, I am doing somebody else well by feeling this way, by being like this all the time. That is my sacrifice. Or so I keep telling myself.

I don't want to think... that maybe my sacrifice is in vain.

-"... Connor... are you in there?"

Trevor's voice reaches me from beyond my mind, and I realize that I'm inside my hotel room lying naked on the bed. I must have been here for quite some time, because I honestly don't remember if I've been sleeping or not. It's already dark outside... we arrived in Birmingham early morning today. Trevor's still knocking on my door repeatedly.

-"Con! Are you asleep? It's me, Trevor!"

-"... Just a second Trevs!"

I stood up and stared at myself in the mirror in front of me. I am literally stark naked, and the fading scars on my arms are visible to the world. Trevor can't see me like this. I get a long sleeved hoodie and a pair of shorts lying around, and put them on unceremoniously.

-"Ok, get in now!"

The door to my room was opened and Trevor stepped in in silence, as if I had been sleeping or something. Clearly he's not used to the environment, because his face is that of... disgust?

-"Dude... what's that stink? It's as if something had died in here!"

Trevor went running towards the window and opened the drapes, letting light into the room.

-"It's probably because your windows have been closed shut!"—he said—"I'm gonna open them, geez! What are you trying to hide anyway? Have you been browsing dirty things on the web!?"

I chuckled under my breath. Poor Trevor, naïve in many ways. He may not seem like it due to his flirty acting towards the camera full-time... but Trevor is still a kid. He's very prude in more than a million ways. Darn, he refuses to get changed in front of any of us due to his tendency to get embarrassed. Just imagine if I told him I am gay, he would fret over nothing for about two hours or so. He would calm down after, of course, he has nothing against gay people. But still it does leave an impact.