LIFE'S UNFAIR.
I bought Casey an Escape the Fate shirt at the concert and I get repaid by a call where his mom tells us he's dying. No thank you. No I appreciated it. Just a big old fuck you back in my face.
It's as if the universe never wanted me to buy the shirt. Well, I didn't really know if he'd fit in it, but I knew that it may be too big for him, since he lost a little too much weight over the time-lapse I got to know him. Murphy's law can go fuck up someone else's life now.
I went back to the hospital again.
I don't want to see him sick again. I don't like it. We can talk over the phone and text, but no face to face meetings. I'm too scared to see him suffer—too scared to see him die. I don't want to carry the consequences of a dying breed.
Why is he always on my mind, no matter what I am doing? I don't even relate to him, little lone do I understand him. We barely have the same interest and rarely have the same on the mind.
Why, when I think of Casey Vincent, my stomach bursts into moths? This butterfly nonsense in your stomach when you're in love, is complete bullshit.
It's more like a tornado, or a storm. Your heartbeat skips two beats and it sounds as if you're having heart palpitations. It feels as if you're psychologically paralyzed and when you see him, ADHD strikes you like lightning. You go flaw blind. You see no fault, hear no fault. Even the most annoying flaw of him, seems attractive. Like the way he bites his nails or the fact that he rolls his eyes more than the necessary amount of time.
But could it be possible?
Could it be possible that I have a crush on the neighborhood fluke? Could it be possible that I have a crush on the school's tightest label? Could it be possible that I have a crush on the emo across the street?
Have a crush?
It feels as if I fell, broke my ribs and my heart fell out of my chest. Or did he cut my heart out with a dagger?
With his fucking razors.
It's flippant of me to fall this quick for any person, but seeing him die made me realize; maybe I do fancy the imbecile in a platonic way.
I don't own emotions. I believe emotions are the reason there's war.
It's all his fault. Just because he can't shut up and stop making me swoon. Just because he has to be so damn perfect when he's feeling like embarrassment itself. Just because he doesn't know how fucking attractive he is when he's confused or pissed off and because he doesn't know a smile looks good with black too.
Dammit.
I shake my head out of the trance of lethargic. Where did this nonsense dive up in the first place? Is it the unnatural amount of Big Bang Theory I watched the past week or is it because I spend too many hours sulking over the standard Tumblr relationships I keep finding on my social media? It's inevitable, it's an ample slate crushing down on what is left of my heart.
It's a long for any teenager basically drugged with their own estrogen.
I don't know.
Honestly, I don't want to care and I tell myself that I don't care, but the perpetuating compliments, mocks and teases forces me to actually absorb his individuality. It opened my eyes to see how much I actually cared about him.
YOU ARE READING
last resort
Teen Fiction❝Sometimes you've got to bleed to know that you're alive and have a soul, but it takes someone to come around to show you how,❞ She's the tear in his heart, he's on fire. She's the tear in his heart, she makes him higher. He's the butcher with the...
