A/N: Dedicated to rain_water, the constant curator/guardian of a great boyxboy library, for being the first one to give me feedback and encouragement here on Wattpad.
They were so annoyingly animated. Where did those people find the energy for that? And all that smiling. Didn't their cheeks start to hurt after a while? I leaned back in my chair, folded the paper that had been wrapped around my sandwich and watched Allen sitting by the long tables talking to Will and Ethan. I couldn't tell what they were talking about of course, their table was almost the other side of the cafeteria and I was no lip reader. Probably something boring like God or sports or something. The Brady bunch talked a lot about sports. And like TV. Who watched TV nowadays? I never did.
I was sitting at the corner of our table, with Adam and his spare chair opposite and then Kat next to me. Since last week I had tried to face the windows, just to check if Allen was going to sit next to Lisa again. So far he hadn't, so mission intimidate might have worked. Not that she seemed interested, or anyone else for that matter. The buzz had died out real quickly. Rich parents or not, Allen was too plain, boring and Christian to appeal to anyone outside the Bradford/choir girl clique, and their extended circle. Today, a week after his arrival, people were talking about cheerleader Lashania Harris breaking up with her boyfriend for the second time this fall, and Allen sat at the table by the windows like he'd been doing nothing else for the last three years. Some people really had no trouble finding their place in the world.
"What are you doing?" Adam snapped his fingers in front of my face, looking at me oddly from the other side of the table. Without noticing I had folded the paper too many times, ending up with a square lump of paper just travelling from one hand to the other.
"Nothing." I quickly dropped the paper onto the table and brushed it away, but Adam's eyes narrowed.
"Man, don't be fucking weird."
"I'm not!" I crossed my arms, trying to look as unweird as I possibly could, but it didn't satisfy Adam. "Dude, you were like all weird yesterday too, just sitting there with your thinking-face on. What's up?"
My thinking-face was what Adam called it when I was so lost in thought I went all blank, not noticing anything around me. But sitting in his basement with Jason and Spence, listening to them recapping the awesomeness that had been their Halloween it wasn't so strange that I didn't pay full attention. Not that I could remember what I might have been thinking so deeply about. I could tell Kat was listening in on us discreetly, while pretending to nod at something Mel was saying, and I knew what it meant. Girls always analyzing everything from every fucking angle. I did my own analyzing so I could do without it, thankyouverymuch.
"Nothing!" I stated firmly, "And I'm not acting weird!" I grabbed the folded lump of paper and tossed it, hitting his ear.
"Whatever dickhead, just like trying show that I care," he muttered and rolled his eyes, moving from his chair to his spare, turning to Ryan instead. And I felt a bit guilty, knowing that he did care.
Adam sometimes made me think of a hamster, with his round face and dark eyes and slightly too large teeth. The floppy black hair that fell over his forehead and curled around his ears, made his face even rounder. Actually all of Adam was round, not like in fat, but a bit pudgy. Maybe it was kinda mean likening your best friend to a hamster. But I would never say it out loud, and it wasn't like being a bit hamsterish stopped him from getting lucky.
He had a thing for bossy girls that wanted to be the center of attention, and that he in turn wanted to give all his attention to. Him and Trish had been a cute couple, the first two months, happy together and happier when you met them on their own too. Maybe Mel's romantic spirit was rubbing of on me, because I kinda wished they'd get back together. And not only because I was fed up with listening to their respective whining.
First class after lunch, government, with drier than dry, older than old, Mrs. Conway. This class I always sat in the back, scribbled some words when I felt like it, chewed on my lip ring. Very bad habit. Mel as usual sitting next to me, writing vigorously with a pen crowned with something purple and furry. What was it with girls and these heavily decorated writing thingies? It was like some kind of fetish. Not that I should complain, I often borrowed her notes, and copied them. With my mom's all in one scanner/printer. So fucking lazy sometimes.
"Don't forget the assignment!" Mrs. Conway said loudly, towards the end of the lesson. What assignment? I had obviously forgotten there was an assignment not to forget.
"Two weeks, you'll work I pairs, you'll get your designated topics tomorrow," she continued, "if you haven't decided on a partner by then, I'll team you up as I see fit," she smiled smugly. If it got to that point it would probably be the most fun she would have the entire year. And she would probably have a lot of fun pairing me with that idiot Keith 'ask a stupid question every five minutes' Miller.
I turned to Mel, flicked her furry pen so that it stuttered over her notebook.
"We'll work together, right?" I whispered. Me and Mel had been in the same Gov class last semester as well, we always worked together. But now she squirmed as I looked at her, and quickly turned back to her notes, carefully erasing the hopping line that extended into the margin.
"Sorry, Matt, Rob Ortega's going to do the whole thing for me, and then Kat's going to do his essay on Shakespearian poetry, and then I'll do Kat's lab reports next week. It's all set up."
Oh high school, thy name is corruption.
"Well thanks for considering me," I said sharply as the bell rang and everyone got up from their seats.
"Sorry," Mel said again, not looking very sorry at all as she hurried out of the class room, like I would bother chasing after her. Whatever. I pulled my hood over my head and got up. As long as I didn't end up working with Keith Miller because then I would be pissed.
The class room quickly emptying, but someone lingered, standing by the entrance, waiting. Someone with very eye-catching hair. And I slowly gathered my things because I really didn't want to have to pass by him more than I had to. Maybe he would expect me to like say hi or look at him or be nice or something. But more and more people left, and by the looks he was throwing my way I slowly realised that he was waiting for me. Wonderful. Just wonderful. He was like my fucking stalker by now.
I lifted my bag onto my shoulder. I would just have to make it short and sweet. Just tell him to get lost or whatever. That wasn't rude actually. Just a simple 'leave me alone' or 'get lost'. It was basically me being nice. But I didn't even get the chance, because the second I reached him I sneezed. Like a kid looking into the sun. And it was the kind of sneeze that you had to wait afterwards for a couple of seconds to make sure you were still conscious and hadn't gone blind. Thankfully I sneezed on the floor and not on him but still. So fucking embarrassing.
"Bless you," Allen said evenly, like your average grandma.
"Sorry," I half sniveled, half choked out. My whole face itched like crazy, I kinda wanted to die and Allen looking at me all concerned asking if I was ok didn't really improve the situation.
"Yeah I'm ok. What did you want anyways?" I muttered and rubbed my face and sniveled loudly again, just because I wasn't done with embarrassing myself.
"No, I was just thinking when she said this about the project, that maybe we could work together, if you're not working with anybody else that is, because I don't know anyone else in this class and, well that was basically it..." he said, stumbling over the words a little. His eyes met mine for a second, before he looked down at his feet, pulling that bag strap again. I could tell he was nervous, but was there also anticipation there? Weird. Also he was standing almost too close for my liking. close enough that I could tell he was definitely that inch shorter than me, despite the hair.
I thought about it for a second. I had to work with someone, that was for sure Might as well be a kid who'd probably be done with it all by himself by tomorrow. Less work for me. And with the possibility to work with Keith Miller looming over me, maybe I should even be thankful for him offering.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," I mumbled , and rubbed my face again, my nose still itching.
"Ok, great!" Allen looked up flashing me a quick smile, and finally turned around and left. Or, he would have, except for the fact that we were both heading in the same direction, so we ended up walking next to each other. Maybe it was my destiny this semester. Endless uncomfortable silence with a kid that for some reason couldn't leave me the fuck alone. Yeah, so it had only been like three times, but that was at least three times too many. And now this assignment. I groaned inwardly. It was definitely my destiny for two weeks to come.
Someone prodded my shoulder as we navigated through the crowd.
"Ouch! That hurt!" I rubbed the spot and glared at my assaulter, Trish, now walking beside me.
"Can't you just say hi like normal people?" I said, sounding way angry when I really was relieved as hell to see her. After a curious look at Allen Trish glared back.
"But Matt, it's just because I love you so much. Love hurts y'know?" She replied coldly. So Adam was the problem. She took a deep breath. "I don't get it, why do all men..."
"I know, I know" I cut in, "we're all bastards and dickheads and should be extinguished to make the world a better place." I'd only heard it about fifteen million times before.
"Damn right you should," Trish muttered, but for all her man-bashing she was still looking curiously at Allen.
I thought of the camera and the retro type of guy thing, and concluded that if it hadn't been for him being all super religious super dork Trish would probably like him. Most probably. But hey, I didn't, and I didn't want him around more than necessary. The two weeks of Mrs Conway assignment/project/whatever would be more than enough. I just had to get rid of him somehow, make up something I needed to talk to Trish about, or just plainly tell him to get lost for the time being. But too late.
"I like your hat," Allen said, leaning over me a little to smile at Trish. She was wearing a grey tweed dress, a cardigan with gold buttons and like 15 glittery pins, pink converse and to top it all, a tiny circle of a hat with feathers and netting falling over her face.
"Thanks!" She beamed. "I ordered it online, there's this girl who makes them. It's actually called a fascinator, maybe it's supposed to make you fascinating, I don't know," she looked down mock-bashfully. Trish would never be actually bashful.
Allen laughed. "I didn't know that, but maybe it does. It's very elegant." Elegant? Seriously? Well, when he said he was a retro type of guy he surely hadn't exaggerated. And these looks being exchanged between them. Were they like not so elegantly flirting with each other? Whatever it was, it was embarrassing to watch. I started to doubt the little backstory I'd made up for him. There was no cute-as-a-button girlfriend left behind, or if there was I'd seriously pity her.
Trish seemed more than happy though.
"I know, right!" She exclaimed and unceremoniously stepped in front me making room for herself next to Allen instead. "I'm Trisha, and you're Allen, right?"
"Right." He nodded, looking a bit intimidated by the fact that she knew his name. But c'mon.
"So how do you like suddenly finding yourself in the most boring place on the face of the earth? She asked complete with dramatic hand gestures, like she was a giant dropping him down in Oakland.
He shrugged, smiling. "It's nice, I mean it doesn't seem so boring to me, I don't know..."
Trish looked to me for a second and I answered her silent question with a silent 'yes, there are actually people who are this lame'.
But apparently she decided to give him another chance, maybe thinking about that weekend in Paris or whatnot. "So tell me about yourself!" She urged this time.
"Uhm, about me, I don't know, there's not much tell really," he smiled self-consciously and tried to shrug away the question. Tried because you didn't really shrug away Trish, who quickly started compiling a helpful list.
"Like things you like to do, brothers and sisters, if you have a twin, like and dislikes, favourite color, mine's pink but in a reclaimed sort of way, favorite movies..."
"Yeah, sure, sorry," Allen interrupted, "I would love to tell you all of those things, but is that a Leica?" He nodded to the camera hanging of Trish's shoulder. Great. I could only look on in frustration, as Trish handed Allen the camera and they both started going on about photographers or films or whatever. Just fucking great. I would never get rid of him now.
We stopped outside Trish's classroom. Physics. She was way smarter than me. I chewed on my lip ring again. This was not an optimal event. Why didn't I just tell him to get lost when I had the chance? Now maybe I would have to put up with him fucking indefinitely, instead of just two weeks. Not to mention how much Adam would hate me/blame me if him and Trish started going out.
I touched Trish shoulder before leaving, but she pretended to not notice, absorbed by Allen talking about developing or something like that, and he seemed kind of absorbed by her. He really wasn't the kind of guy she'd date normally, but right now she was a little starved for attention I'd noticed. Especially male attention.
After last period I had some spare time before I was supposed to meet Lisa. Actually a lot of spare time, since she was in some committee meeting for something. I hadn't seen Trish for the rest of the day, hadn't gotten any opportunity to discourage her from any eventual Allen-dating. She didn't answer her phone, she wasn't by her locker. She could be in the basement floor with some of her artsy geek friends, but I didn't go there voluntarily, since it was dead creepy, especially in the afternoon. I decided to check the library hangout still. If she wasn't there I would just go wait for Lisa outside her meeting. She wouldn't be that much longer. Hopefully.
The eerie fluorescent silence of late afternoons. My walking image mirrored in the hallway's floor-to-ceiling glass walls. From the outside it looked like an aquarium I knew. An aquarium filled with high school kids. But now the hallways were empty. Almost empty. Some guys from the football team breaking the silence with their loud voices, their feet pounding down the hallway. The ones without William Bradford's benevolent disposition. The ones that almost seemed to be in fist pump or chest bump mode for one reason or another.
I kept my eyes fixed on the end of the hallway, glanced at my own reflection in the glass just as they passed. Nothing would happen. I knew that. But I still had that sinking feeling walking pass those kind of guys by myself, even though I knew. Nothing would happen. They wouldn't try anything. If you beat the shit out of some guy during your first year, you're left alone the following. I wished someone would have told me that for junior high, I could have made an effort, it could have made things easier. That things had been easier in high school could also have to do with the fact that I'd grown four inches only freshman year. And maybe also because by then people believed that I had tried but failed to burn down the science lab.
The library housed an even more compact silence as I entered, only a couple of kids scattered around the tables in the open part, the desk where the librarian usually sat empty. Walking through the maze of shelves I already knew that Trish wouldn't be hanging out in the couch at our usual place, the silence was a dead giveaway. I would actually have to text her, call her, send a freakin' pigeon whatever, plead to her not to date the dork.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and just like fucking magic turned my head and saw said dork sitting by himself not even ten feet away from me. Did my heart have to skip a beat like that? Fucking terrifying. I slowed down, taking shorter steps than usual, buying time. Should I just walk past? Should I say something? Stupid thoughts. I shouldn't say hi, I should just walk past. But my feet carried me there anyway.
He was sitting in one of the small cubicles that only the nerdy people used for studying, since you had to be quiet, there were only two seats by the tiny desks, and you were hidden from public view. It wasn't very cozy either. Utilitarian steel bookshelves with outdated textbooks, a table with steel legs and fake wooden surface. The white walls marked with little hearts and initials, profanities and hundreds of accidental dots, when whoever sat there had stretched and their pen had hit the wall.
And then Allen, with his pale neck and wild hair that seemed even redder today, since he was wearing a dark green sweater, probably made by wool handpicked from baby llamas by royals in outer Tibet. He didn't look up as I edged closer, which could be explained by the headphones covering his ears, the thin cables leading to the ipod lying beside his book. Jealousy just didn't cover it. Especially since I'd actually had one of those myself but lost it.
I took two steps closer. He was doing the week's math assignment I saw now, a calculator, textbook and notepad in front of him. He wrote with his left hand, illegible numbers crammed into the squares. The texting wasn't much better, equally illegible letters. After consulting the calculator he rubbed his forehead and crossed out what he'd written, apparently starting over. New digits crammed into new squares.
Another two steps closer, I could touch his shoulder now, if I wanted to. But why would I want to do that? And what the fuck was I doing staring at him? I had nothing to say to him, no reason why I was standing two feet away from him. I backed away just as Allen turned to look at me, sliding the headphones off his head. If he was surprised or startled he did a really good job of hiding it. But he still looked at me questioningly as he said hi, and I just knew I looked like a fucking deer caught in headlights.
"Yeah, I said hi like two seconds ago, but you didn't hear..." I shrugged, cupping my ears lightly with my hands as I said it, like a retarded mime artist. And still nothing, nothing to say. My head like outer space, empty, quiet, dark and Allen still looking at me bewildered.
"What are you listening to?" I finally got out. Lame. There was a second of silence, a missing beat when he still looked at me almost suspiciously, but then he smiled easily, like he had people sneaking up on him every fucking day and couldn't care less.
"Sigur Rós."
Huh? "Sorry?"
"Sigur Rós. They're this post-rock band from Iceland," he explained, motioning to the chair beside him and like an obedient dog I just did as he wished, pulled out the chair and sat down.
He handed me the ipod and the headphones, with an adjustable metal headband I could only pray my hair wouldn't get caught in. The music already playing as I put them over my head, music like I'd never heard before. Someone singing, howling, whispering in a mysterious language. A bass line like a drum beat surrounded by feet stomping rhythmically towards a crescendo. Otherworldly. It made me long for something I didn't know I missed, but I couldn't figure out what that it was.
Listening to the music I tried looking at Allen without him noticing. Not the easiest. All I could see when I peered underneath my bangs was his hands. He was writing again, his right hand resting on the table. Wide and with shorter fingers than mine, flat round fingertips. A scar healing across a knuckle. Faint freckles. He had sort of kind looking hands. Hands belonging to someone who took care of injured animals they found in the forest. There was a lot of forest in Minnesota, wasn't there?
The song ending, another one beginning and I could've kept on listening, but I couldn't sit there all quiet for like hours and hours. It was bad enough he'd caught me staring at him. I carefully removed the headphones, miraculously without snagging my hair.
"What do you think?" Allen asked, looking up at me for a second. Still this loss of words. Even when it came to the music I couldn't come up with anything. Well anything that I could tell him anyways.
"Dunno. I'm not very good at describing music, it's like either I like it or I don't"
Allen smiled knowingly and filled in some numbers, not looking at me. "Well, do you like it then?"
I nodded, smiling too for whatever reason. "Yeah, I mean, it's weird, but in a good way, like when you listen to it, it's like you're in a different world or something, like a desolate island, it's cool."
Allen nodded, seemingly satisfied with my rambling answer.
"Let me know if you want to borrow it," he put down his pen and turned to me. "The cd I mean, I should just buy it online, you know, but it seems so boring, I have tons of records at home," he measured with his hands an enormous pile from the floor towering over his head and I smiled again.
"I'm the same, or I mean I'm not very into any of that, I share a computer probably dating back to the 80's with my sister since my mom thinks computers and the internet are like the sources of all evil..." And I just kept on talking. Social skills entering outer space from nowhere.
Allen laughed. "Really?"
"Yeah, pretty much," I nodded, looking down and noticing that the table too was filled with markings, that the more ambitious ones had carved into the surface.
"I'm not much into that stuff either, I like to live, you know, like in reality." That I had guessed already, what with the old school camera and everything, so I just nodded again and traced some of the lines with my index finger, feeling the social skills returning back to whatever distant solar system they came from.
As a complete opposite Allen leaned his head in his hand and smiled, seemingly a lot more relaxed than in the hallway before. He really had one of those wide-open faces, all emotion visibly flickering by, book pages turning in the wind. It was sort of captivating.
"So is this where you hang out? The library?" He asked curiously.
"I don't know, maybe," I answered slowly, smiling at the carved initials.
Allen laughed softly, but stayed silent, looking at me unnervingly intensely as I glanced at him. But then maybe he just had like a more intense gaze than usual people. Or maybe it just seemed that way because his eyes were so bright.
"What are you doing here yourself?" I asked to fill the soon to be awkward silence. I was on the verge of asking where he had his entourage, but stopped myself in time. Not that the question I had asked him was any better. Allen looked wearily at the books in front of him and sat up straight in his chair, flipping through the corner of his notepad with his thumb.
"Trying to study, as you can see, or maybe it's not so apparent," he smiled almost wryly. "Honestly, I just wanted to sit by myself for a bit, everyone's been really nice, you know but I've hardly been alone for a second and I have a lot of catching up to do and my room's still in boxes, so I'm-"
"I'll leave you to it," I said abruptly, not even letting him finish talking before getting up, the chair squeaking against the floor. This encounter had been odd enough, and I wasn't someone who couldn't take a hint.
"I didn't mean it like that," Allen said good-naturally, with confusion written all over his face and of course he didn't. Because he was one of those people who said happy things when they were happy, and sad things when they were sad. Not that they were sad very often. And if they said they just wanted to sit by themselves, they meant just that, not that they wanted you to leave them the fuck alone. But leaving I was already.
"I have stuff to do." I shrugged. "I'll see you around."
"Wait!" Allen turned, elbow over the chair's back. "Maybe I should take your number, just in case I don't see you around?"
"Sure," I mumbled, because when he looked at me expectantly with those sky blue eyes what else could I say?
The car keys jingled in Lisa's hand as we walked over the parking lot. She drove for two reasons. One. It was her car. Two. She had a driving licence. Ok. So I had a driving licence too, but I had no idea how I got it, and I figured the best way to keep it long enough to get the permanent one, was to stay away from driving all together.
We stayed at her place, which we often did. She lived quite close to me, we must have been going to the same elementary school, but she said she couldn't remember me. I had a faint memory of someone that could be her, or maybe it was a made-up memory, constructed by my mind as it saw fit, but I still had it. Her doing the double dutch that had been all the rage at our school then, her brown shiny hair crashing in waves over her shoulders. I wasn't sure why I would have been watching them, but then I had been a weird kid. And the memory was very faint. And maybe not even true.
After dating Lisa for a month I'd met her parents for Sunday brunch, and they had regarded me somewhat doubtfully but generously. Like I was a faze that Lisa would get over if they just gave it time. A project she would tire of eventually. After two months I had graduated from the living room couch to cuddling in her bed, but still sitting up of course, she had so many pillows, it was basically just like a couch.
I put my arm around her as she talked about something belong to her on-going quest to be one of the top ten good-hearted people in the state, possibly even on the planet. It was something that I should find annoying, but honestly if maybe reluctantly admired, and somewhere we had some common ground. Apparently now she wanted to do even more volunteering, the hours at the community center not enough.
"I don't know," she shook her head lightly, "maybe I should ask Allen about it, since..."
And just her mentioning him I returned to the library again, sat there with his headphones and him next to me writing. Maybe I should've done some asking, to borrow the cd with the otherworldly music by the band with an unpronounceable name. But what had I said about it, really? 'Like you're on a desolate island.' Iceland was a freakin' island! Even I knew that. Stupid. He was way too nice to point it out of course, but really. So incredibly stupid.
Lisa had continued talking while I was away, and now she lifted her head from my shoulder, waiting for some kind of reaction.
"Sorry, what did you say?"
"I said, Allen's mom works for The Light Within, and maybe I could find some place there," she answered patiently.
"What's The Light Within?"
Her answer was winding and kinda vague, about fundraising and awareness and the right to life, but not vague enough.
"Pro-life?" I asked cautiously.
"I don't know if I agree with everything they say," Lisa said lightly, "but to me there's nothing wrong with helping someone to keep her baby and raising a family."
"If she really wants to keep it," I retorted, being of a different opinion. My mom was a die-hard feminist and I had attended my first pro-choice demos as a kid sitting on her hip, like a living proof that choice meant exactly what it said.
"Children are always a blessing." Lisa said carefully, her brows furrowed and I shifted against the stiff pillows. Maybe I shouldn't be with someone that called children a blessing. I wasn't sure I even wanted kids, I'd hardly been a blessing myself. "And maybe I could work young mothers or with kids," she continued, "if they can help me help, I don't see anything wrong in that."
I could see a something wrong with that, but no use. There were a lot of things we would never agree on, and yeah, then we hadn't even gotten started on the whole 'children are a blessing' thing.
"There are other organisations," I tried meekly, "if you want to work with kids maybe there's-"
"Let's just talk about something else," she interrupted quickly, curling her lips into a smile, leaning her head against my shoulder again. "I heard that Lashania Harris..."
I wasn't sure if it had been just my luck, but Lisa was one of the more religious choir girls, sometimes it was more apparent than others. This was such a time. The time she didn't let me unhook her bra another. But no matter what I'd told Trish I didn't mind the lack of action much. I'd done the deed, and it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. If I'd wanted that I should have chosen someone else. Now Lisa had chosen me, and I was happy for it. Most times.
Dinner at home was a quiet event. Just the three of us and as soon as I was done I went upstairs and carefully closed my bedroom door behind me. I sat down on the floor by my bed, leaned my head against the mattress. Sometime in my younger more generous days I'd let Julie have the bigger room so she then could fit her dollhouse and zoo of stuffed animals. I was still ok with my small room though. It was big enough. A desk by the window, a book case filled with books and CD's next to it. Some posters and pictures that Trish had taken of us tacked to the walls. A bed without a thousand stiff pillows. I closed my eyes. To just finally be alone, finally not having to deal with anybody else but myself.
I had a feeling Trish sometimes thought me strange, when I said I needed time alone. Like why would anyone who had friends actually choose to be alone? Well I needed it. My room was like my sanctuary. Even though I had no lock on the door and I was sure my mom probably still searched it sometimes. Like if I actually had something to hide, I would hide it in my room. A little bit smarter than that.
Because of the 'internet is evil' thing, and therefore no computer, I actually did kinda strange things. Like reading. And listening to music. Or just listening to the thoughts in my head, recapping the day, all the people I met, all the things I'd said, all the things I had done, analyzing it. Picking it apart. Many times coming to the conclusion I'd said something stupid, and should re-say it a dozen times in my head. Like it would stop me from doing it again.
I listen to it all involuntarily, but it was ok. I was used to it by now. That was how my mind worked, they had told me. I had too much grey matter in one place, too many nerves connecting somewhere else. Too few hormones. I had no idea teenagers could have too few hormones, instead of too many. 'There's nothing wrong with you, it's genetic, we're more sensitive,' my mom had tried to explain.
There was a lot wrong with me, starting with that my mind was a mess. Sometimes it didn't even function properly for everyday use. But it was ok. It was me, it was my mind, I couldn't exactly get it replaced. They could fix it with meds, they had done for a while, when it had been worse. Quite a long while with my head feeling like it was filled up with cotton. A mental nosebleed stilling.
'We notice things other people don't notice,' my mom had said, like it was a good thing. I didn't want to notice. I wanted to say yeah, whatever and actually mean it, instead of feeling like I was going to crawl out my own skin with agitation or anxiety or sometimes both. When I'd been on the meds I'd been able to, but then I'd been unable to feel well anything. Unable to feel like I actually existed. Either the one or the other. But yeah, whatever. My arm itching as it still sometimes did. Fucking annoying.
It was going better now. Not every day. But there were a lot more good days this fall then the last. I'd been so good during the last summer they told me I could get off the meds. Really fucking bad idea trying to trip off during the dark season. But by now I managed by myself. My mind still a mess, still out of order some days, but not constantly. And this summer had been good, closing in on great. Maybe someday I would even get there. I scratched my arm, even though I knew it was my mind that was itching.