1994 (TATE LANGDON FANFIC)

Two

I love Kurt Cobain.

I think he writes his songs about me sometimes. For instance, I listen to one of his songs and I feel like someone's trying to reach out to me through the heavy guitar and drum beats. They tell me it's okay and I'm simply normal in a mad world.

I know we would be good friends. We both are brave enough to discover how to look through the fucking looking glass and see life for what it truly is. That's the point of life and I've already achieved it. So now what do I do with myself?

I go to the record shop of course. Pick out a couple of top hits of the week to take home. On the way home sometimes I go buy a coke and drink it outside the newsagents. I observe skateboarders brush past me to the girls across the road at the bus stop, gossiping and exaggerating their words, throwing around their painted hands. 90s life.

I don't stay for long. I'm not a creep.

However, I don't go home because walking in on my mom fucking her new toy doesn't really appeal to me. Addy can suffer through that alone. And in the last few months, I've found a place nearby where I can run away to, which makes me feel like I'm standing on the edge of the earth. I can read, write and even if I one day go crazy I could scream and shout but the waves' orchestral crescendos will make it seem like I was never even there. Wave watching on the sand is my favourite thing to do there. Every time the sea goes in is another few seconds of bliss. The numbness hits me shortly after.

I think of the time I took a girl to this beach once, as I sit down on the sand. The bitch didn't interest me at all, in fact, she bored me. She took off her tiny top and went running into the ocean, wearing only a lace bra. I played along with her childish games as if this all thrilled me. I guess I just longed human contact.

Although touching her didn't give me that same electric shock a human body normally does. It was if she had been melted down and moulded from clay into this ethereal creature. Then she took my hand and placed it on the nape of her neck while we treaded the ocean's currents. She batted her Bambi eyes and made a move.

"Tate."

I pretended to not hear her.

"Are you scared Tate?"

"No."

I said it firmly. She was no threat to me.

"Your tense, Tate."

My hands gripped around her neck. I had the power to show the world right there what I can do.

I still think about that moment a lot. I do know my morals and how bringing pain to others goes completely against the bible that sits proudly on my mom's bedside table. However, ending a life is a concept that nobody truly understands. Where do we go for example? Perhaps I would be doing them a favour taking them to a cleaner place where they could leave the shit and vomit in this world behind. Because this earth reeks of bullshit and lies.

There I sit on the seashore, feeling so small in the midst of the night sky. The smoke trailing behind my lighted cigarette spins around me like a whirlpool. It's as if the painting of distinguished brushstrokes outlining the waves in the ocean move out their canvas and into my ears. I can hear them so clearly, Their voices clamour together but I'm gone. I don't know where. 

The voices now are shouting and laughing. And that's when I have the sudden moment of realisation that they are not in my head but very real and lighting a bonfire on the west side of this beach. I feel invaded by my privacy since I have always been very territorial of this place. I won't fight for it however so I stand up, put out my cigarette and walk away.