is death an option? / larry ✅

0.6

The Part Where There's Too Many Parts

I realize that this story has gotten to the point where it isn't really my journal entries, but more of a shorter, shittier John Green novel. Maybe to the point of Anne Frank status, but I'm not too sure. I never listened whenever we went over her diary in junior high; all I remember was that Hitler was an asshole. But, I guess everyone remembers that.

Anyway, remember how I ended off the last entry with Louis telling me that I'd be sitting with his clique the next following Tuesday? Well, I'll pick up this entry there, because it's very important that I add the point where the tranquility that I built up for myself collapsed like the city of Pompeii.

I avoid the cafeteria. It's narrow, loud, and somewhat what I imagine the wry depth of a rainforest would look like. So, as me and Louis stood there with our trays of undefined, mystery food, I can recall the feeling of my heart pounding within my chest. I thought was going to have to throat, but I figured that if someone who was built as compact as Louis could survive each and every single day eating in the lunchroom, then so could I.

So, we sat down. His friends consisted of three: two girls, and one boy who looked a bit like Justin Timberlake in his N'SYNC days. They stared at me like I was a Martian as soon as I seated myself. Louis introduced me as "H", and then asked if anyone needed spoons.

He left. I desperately wanted to throw myself down on the cafeteria's floors and have a stroke so that he'd come back, but I'm not physically able to force myself into that state, so I just started to unpack my lunch from the paper bag it came in. I forget what I ate that day. I don't think I did.

As soon as Louis was out of sight, his friends began grilling me:

Friend 1: So, H, you've been spending a lot of time with Louis lately.

Me: Yeah, he's cool. So, how about those Dodgers?

Friend 2: We know you're only hanging out with him because he's got cancer.

Friend 3: And, personally, we think it's disgusting. No one wants a pity friend.

Me: Wait, what? No–I. That's–Dodgers–*unintelligible sound* Who even does that, that's awful.

This is the point in time that I'm approached by a girl by the name of Kristen. She's got great hair, and she always smells like strawberries.

But, she's hot, and I've got the face of a small mole. Either way, hot girls are never good. They always end up hurting your feelings–whether they mean to, or not. You're a squirrel, and they're a deer. Deer always trample squirrels in the forest, it's just a fact.

She places her hand on my shoulder, and asks if she could sit down. Louis comes back and answers the question for me; forcing me to sit in–between him and Kristen, which made me feel like I was seconds away from hyperventilating. His friends are still staring at me like I'm carrying the plague.

I panic:

Me: *Looking at one of the counselor's daily visitors whose actually carrying a sickle–a FUCKING SICKLE, WHY IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED?!?!* Wow, it looks like Death is actually in our school. What a weirdo.