The Journal {18}

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                Game over, journal.

                Shit has officially hit the fan. I know I’ll never be happy again. It’s all over now.

                I don’t have a preamble for this entry anyways. I just want to write down what happened as fast as I can, so I don’t have to be in agony much longer.

                When I woke up this morning, I did my usual routine to get ready for school. I went out to the kitchen to grab breakfast and, of course, my parents were cruel to me.

                Mom glared and said-

                -“You ditched school yesterday. I saw the attendance. Were you running off with that faggot Francis? Huh Nash? Is that what you’ve dropped down to? Ditching school to go be a faggot like Francis?” she demanded.

                I stared at her in complete shock. “I’m not a faggot,” I whispered.

                “No, you just like to go off with boys. You’re a disgrace,” dad said.

                I opened my mouth to try to reply to that, but mom held her hand up to stop me. She shook her head at me.

                “Save it. Go to school. Or to Francis’s apartment. Wherever it is you run off to nowadays. You used to be such a good kid. We were really proud of you. And now you’re just…this,” she said in disgust, turning and leaving the kitchen.

                “I don’t even want to call you my son anymore,” dad said and also left the kitchen.

                “Don’t break down,” I whispered to myself, wrapping my arms around myself.

                After a few minutes, I hurried out of the house. I couldn’t be there anymore. It wasn’t my home anymore. My own parents hated me. They were ashamed of me. All because of something I couldn’t even control.

                I drove to school and hurried up and inside. I looked around for Francis and spotted him walking with some people towards the music hallway.

                “Francis!” I called and rushed towards him.

                He spun around and stumbled back as I hugged him tightly. He hugged me back, looking confused.

                “What’s wrong?” he asked.

                “I just…Nothing,” I whispered. “I just wanted to see you.”

                He gently untangled himself from my grip. “What happened, Nash? I’ve never seen you this upset before,” he said.

                “Everything is fine,” I lied.

                He pulled his glasses off, cleaning them with his shirt. “Don’t lie to me. I know that something is wro- shit!” He cursed as he dropped his glasses to the ground.

                He dropped to his knees, slapping around blindly for them. I nearly laughed at how funny he looked doing that. He looked like Velma from Scooby Doo.

                I knelt down next to him and grabbed his glasses. Francis was basically blind without them. He could only see the world as a giant blur.

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