Empty

When

When did this happen?

Sometimes I don't even remember. Most of the time I forget everything like it fell through the hole.

But there isn't a hole anymore.

It disappeared with the memories.

But sometimes it shows up, like now, for instance. It's like my brain starts working for the first time, and I hear the click clack clicking of the gears moving in my brain.

I don't like those gears.

Involuntarily, I start to remember. Maybe you should try to remember, too.

This is a story that everybody should enjoy.

The series of events had started on a cool, fall day. The leaves started to fall off the trees, the multiple shades of greens turning into beautiful oranges, reds, yellows and purples. Everything was wonderful.

The morning started as per usual. Wake up, get dressed, and go to school.

But something was off. And by something, I mean everything.

I was one of the people who no one knew about in high school, and if I ignored them they ignored me. I never did anything wrong or right to get myself in the spotlight.

The teachers ignored me. The students. Everyone. And I was fine with it. Then I made one small mistake.

"Ah!" As I was walking past a boy I noticed who was in one of my classes, he walked too close in the crowded hallway and he tripped me.

I dropped my notebook, filled with bunches of loose papers, which mostly consisted of sketches and stories.

When I fell, nobody stopped walking through the hallway. The boy who tripped was the only one who stopped to help me pick my things up.

"God, I'm so sorry, it was an accident...-" He picked up the papers that fell out of my notebook and glanced down at them with wide eyes. I managed to stand up and brush myself off, securing the papers that weren't ruined by the stampeding high-schoolers.

I grabbed the papers in his hand and stuffed them into my notebook. "Sorry," I mumbled, continuing my way down the hall. A single word called after me, and has stayed deep within my mind ever since.

"F... FREAK!"

I stopped walking for a split second before continuing my way, like it never happened.

But this was bad. I was recognized, and now I had a title. But why was I called a freak? All he did was look at some drawings...

But now I understood why.

"Normal" people can't fully comprehend what they really see in their dreams, or what they see late at night. Only few can really and truly understand what happens, what stalks them, what stays chained to their soul until the end of eternity. That picture was very detailed with the things I've seen and heard.

I was just a nobody. Like I didn't matter. Now I was someone.

I hated it.

Those next few days, I was taunted. Pushed around, even beat up after school. The superintendent started calling my parent about it. My father was almost constantly drunk and smoking weed, saying that he "could have had a better life if not for that bitch." I only assumed that he meant my mother, who had only passed away a few months ago, which was six years after the divorce. Dad had shown no interest of any women at all since then, and it had really been wearing me down, since I tried to hook him up with someone for once.

As I walked in through the door of my house, I rushed passed my father's room, which is where he spent most of his time. Racing up the stairs, I felt relieved that I didn't have to talk to him.

But as I opened the door to my bedroom, something struck my head with significant force.

It was a fist.

"Why do I keep getting calls from the school!? You do jack shit! Can you please fucking tell me what's going on?"

"Kids are just calling me a freak."

"Why? Please don't fucking tell me you're blabbing about that goddamn mask again, because if you embarrass me, I will personally dig a hole out back, just for you, and you'll sit there until people forget about you again."

"It's not."

Another blow to the head. I staggered out of the room, falling backwards.

"Don't lie to me you little shit! It's the mask, isn't it!?"

"No!" A powerful force made contact with my stomach, and I doubled over in pain, sprawled out on the ground. Footsteps echoed past me and down the stairs, down the hall, and finally a door slamming. I was alone now.

Alone in my one sanctuary in this damned hell called Earth.

***
hey 
its uh
the author
im making this story because screw it 
and i hate myself for posting it
but whatever
just another thing in my life i despair over for the next few weeks i actually think about it, and then it just disapears from existance in my brain until i once again in the next few months and wonder "what the fuck wasi thinking back then "
but yeah
just sort of ranting here
if you like the shit here, write a comment, and if you want me to just stop everything im working on on this story and shit
uh
comment???
so
yeah
d3 out