waistdeep [CURRENTLY GOING THROUGH MINOR CHANGES]

chapter 4: miracles

hey guys, so i kinda have a dilemma and its kinda depressing me. the problem is that i don't know what you guys think about this book. i mean is it nice does it make you check if i've updated or not. i'm just curious guys and i'd love it if you'd comment. i don't care what kind of comment it is just so long as you comment that would make my life better like totally and the first two people to comment will get a dedication on this and the one's before chapter and also the first will get a follow back from me. please comment and vote and follow but most importantly read and have fun therefore leading to you commenting.

hope you do comment this time around even if its one but i'd love it if a lot of you did. please just comment anyway here's chapter 4

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Chapter 4

Am I supposed to feel like this?

Am I supposed to feel so empty?

Is this normal?

Is this what being depressed feels like?

How can I be like this when I feel so empty inside?

So many questions not enough answers. As a matter of fact no answers at all, and it’s killing me. It’s like not knowing something you need to know. These matters are on a need to know basis.

That is how I felt as they brought Steven’s casket into the church. After two weeks of searching they finally found his body.

In the pits of the ocean…he jumped off a cliff and died. ‘Young boy aged 17 was found under the ocean’ the newspapers read and that’s when Steven being dead actually sunk. He’s gone forever and he’s never coming back.

I envy him so much for being able to make me feel this way, for having such an impact on me, but looking at the people in this church (Mainly Mrs Thrashfield’s church group) I could instantly tell they knew nothing about Steven and they could care less if Steven was dead or not. The only reason they’re here is to keep up the image of them being holier than thou.

Utter crap.

“I’d like to call on Ms Williams to say a little something about our late Mr Thrashfield.”

I could hear their whispers already. I know for a fact they’re talking about my family and probably judging me. So standing here in this church trying to conjure up words to say so that I can get this eulogy over and done with, I looked at the people here and I finally realized that I am sick and tired of these people giving me ‘pity looks’ and acting all heartbroken.

Fake people so crusty, disgusting.

What really amuses me is the fact that they don’t know me yet they judging me.

“I wonder if she’ll also go off the rails like her mother,” one whispered.

“You never know, she can’t be that far from the gutter. After all she is a chip off the old block. Look at her eyes, I bet she’s wondering if she should kill herself too. Just like her friend…the generation of today is just despicable especially her kind. I just thank God every day my child isn’t like that, very young mannered girl that obeys and was brought up in a well-mannered household.” The other whispered back.

If only she knew what her daughter did behind public eyes… if only she knew then maybe she’d shut her trap.

“I actually had a speech planned but then I feel like if I say it I wouldn’t be expressing my true thoughts on this and if you judge me, I don’t care since you do that anyways without my consent. I just want to say that I hate each and every one of you here. I hate the fact that you have so much bad stuff to say about people but so little to say about you, I hate the fact that you don’t even recognize when someone does something so praise-worthy, you don’t comment on those. The only thing you’re looking for is something bad to say about other people. Most importantly I hate the fact that society is so narrow-minded they couldn’t even give Steven the chance to embrace his homosexuality. Do you think my best friend wanted to be gay, no he despised himself; he couldn’t stand the fact that he wasn’t like your boy next door resorting in him taking drugs, cutting himself and then finally when everyone found out and hated him he jumped off a cliff then died.”