The feeling of angst. Tendered anger, filled with rage within words, not by actions. I stood on the floor and wrote in my journal like every teenager joining the trend. This was different for a reason I can't bear. The whole time, I sold my soul and became restless. I hid secrets I couldn't keep but I controlled them. Is being reckless the feeling of being wounded? Or is the flying saucer, i.e. the clock that he had dashed to me, forcing me to care more deeply about myself? I must obviate myself from the dangers that I never knew were a hazard to me.
Poems I wrote are dedicated to me but people never dedicate them to me but themselves. I had an aspect to write and as I grew older, I'll grab the chance to establish them. Throughout the afternoon, I've been starving in an empty cave except I wasn't ordinary this time. The cave filled me with darkness but the night came along, I got up and checked the messages I received throughout the day.
My cell blew up a notification as I approached. It was Wayne who texted me late at night, "Where were you? You ran off to Las Vegas or something?"
I started to reply, "Something came up at home. That's why I couldn't come to school."
"Open your window, I'm outside," he replied.
I looked confused, "Wait, what?"
I opened the window as I saw him. I replied to him, "Are you for real?!"
He screamed out loud, "Crazy as I'll ever be." He started to climb up the tree, passing through the window and he went inside my room with no wounds. "Here, catch," he throws Starlet, the stuffed toy that I won him during our day in the mall.
"How did you manage all of that? Wasn't the tree full of thorns? It could've been prickly."
"That's what happens when you have a friend called Wayne," he said, smiling and holding his bag.
I spotted his bag, "Are those clothes?"
He looked at me, "Rode, answer me first. Will you tell me what happened?"
"I told you, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
He starts to rub my forehead, "Doesn't seem like you nor the wound that you have. I'll put a band-aid on it."
"Thanks, I felt tired. Okay?"
"Whether you like it or not, I'll be having a sleepover at your house. Looks like you needed a friend. Now, don't you," he grinned.
"I guess so."
He headed to the showers after he was all sweaty from climbing up the tree. His back looked more soaked in sweat. I didn't notice how much time he was waiting for me at the school grounds when I left. I begged him to go to class but he wouldn't wait out on me.
One thing I know for sure. He would flaunt the way he would like.
"Rode, quit that heater. I can't seem to find the way," he went out of the shower, swaying the towel.
"Sure. Quit steroids," I said.
"These aren't steroids," he said, shirtless with his burly body out in the wind. "They must've come from genes."
"Sure," I said. I whispered, "I do hope I don't receive genetics in my veins."
He turned to me, "What was that?"