Our World Is Crazy

Our World Is Crazy (2)

I'm sorry if this has a bunch of mistakes, but I had to type this whole chapter up on my phone -_- Enjoy!

I lay on my bed, closed my eyes and ran over everything that had just happened. So after being abandoned by my estranged mother at a prison for crazy people, I met my therapist/possible executioner and was then introduced to my roommate, Phil Lester, who looked like he could be a fucking model. It's been an eventful Tuesday, I'll tell you that.

I've known I was bisexual since an early age. I used to stare at the girls and the boys on the TV and though my mother always said it was just a phase and that I'd grow out of it, here I am being blown away by the strange boy who's sitting with earphones in his ears just 5m away from me.

The words 'hot' or 'sexy' could not be used to create an adequate description of him, because he is not those words. His delicate features are ones that radiate beauty, all the way down to his plump lips, and up to his startling blue eyes, that are encompassed by a row of black lashes. His black skinny jeans match mine and his t-shirt seems to be part of the Muse merchandise collection. He's a Muse fan like me? Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

I wonder why he's here. He's not a cutter, there aren't any scars visible on any part of his body. Maybe he shares my problem. We could bond over that. Yeah, that could totally be a conversation! Ok, I've made up my mind, I'm going to talk to him and ask why he's here. Wait, could that be considered insensitive? Oh, I don't care, I'm going to ask and I'm going to do it right now.

"So, um, Phil why are you-"

"Daniel or whatever your name is, I need you to be quiet because I'm going to lay down rules ok?"

Ouch. He turned and looked me dead in the eye. I froze, caught in a vaguely uncomfortable posistion halfway between sitting up and lying down.

"First of all, don't talk to me. We may now be unfortunately sharing a room, but that doesn't mean I want to have to listen to you whining about all your problems and how horrible your life is. We all have problems here- deal with it. Secondly, don't you dare touch any of my stuff. I don't care if you can't find your toothpaste and you need to borrow mine, no, if I ever wake up and see you rifling through my bag or I leave the room and find things missing when I return, I will kill you. Ok, we clear on that? Good, now I'm going to sit here and listen to my music and you're going to go and do whatever it is that you do. Bye."

With that last sentence he turned back to the wall and plugged himself into his music, leaving me speechless.

That was not how I expected our first conversation to go. Personally, I felt it could have been a little more successful, but something tells me right now is not a good time to try a second attempt. I give up for the moment and heave myself off the comfortable bed, looking around the room. There are two matching wardrobes, I'm guessing one for me and one for Phil, two matching beds (self-explanatory), a mirror and a large window, with a seat made out of the windowsill. The walls are painted baby blue, which I relish as a change from the ever-present white.

I might as well get started on my unpacking since it looks like I'm going to be here for a while. I wonder if Phil's been here for ages, but if he hasn't got a roommate yet then he can't have been here long. Well, I know for sure not to make the same mistake again and ask him. Dragging my suitcase up onto my bed, I unzip it and regard the pitiful amount of clothing items I brought with me. Sadly, this is all I own, as my mother never really has time to take me shopping, and I'm way too lazy to get a job. Why would you want to clock hours 5 days a week when instead you could be browsing the glorious nation that is the internet? Tumblr, Twitter and a new-found of mine, YouTube, take up all of my free time.