Post by N on Jan 21, 2012 11:30:42 GMT -5
Hey, all. Contributing my first writing here. Forewarning, it's kind of depressing...
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"It hurts. It hurts worse than any blade, any disease, any bullet. It hurts worse than any physical pain that anyone has ever experiennced, or ever will. I speak of sorrow... The pain in your best friend's eyes... And all you want to do is help them. But you can't... You must sit there, like a helpless babe, watching the one you care about suffer. No matter what, nothing you can do will mend the wounds on their hearts. A never-ending cycle of pain. An unrecognizable mask worn on their face, so when they say they're okay... You believe it..."
"Will you SHUT UP, you Emo freak, yo?!" the cliché 'tough guy jock' Dylan yells from across the room. Traces of laughter and giggling cripple the attention I'd held.
And I say nothing. As always. Always the little wallflower, when it came to voicing my hate. I'd just stood up and poured my heart out to these 'popular, cool kids.' I mean, what's the point in joining a writing class if you won't even let another person read? I'd always listened to every filthy word they'd put onto their papers, so apathetically. Every line the same as their last, just writing about little things. Enough to pass the class. Enough to become terribly redundant after two weeks.
As always, I'd put my soul through that pen and onto paper. I'd be ridiculed. And called... Freak.. A name sharper than Excalibur itself. And every time, it pierced my heart, wounded the mind, corroded the soul. And this time, like always, the tears blinded me. My anger... I'd never been so infuriated in my life! I simply remove myself from the Presenting Pedestal and blend back into my seat. They'd finished their mocking, as Dylan made it a point to hit the back of my head with his notebooks he made his way to the Pedestal. And the Wallflower slunk further into the hard wooden chair...
Thankfully, before he could present, the final bell rang. I stand up as hastily as possible, leaving my bag, taking only the notebook I had clutched to my chest. I'm out of the room before any others. I forced my way through the overly-obnoxious population of the school I loathe so much, and threw open the door that was the exit to this cage.
I storm past my bus. I had no intention of dealing with those idiots as well. I begin treading the path in the back of the school, swearing off the mosquito stragglers that attacked me. I stumble over a fallen branch, swearing a hurricane at that, too. I sigh heavily, hoping to lighten my chest. I was breathless with fury. A few more minutes got me off the path, and at the intersection. It was abnormally empty, so I cross the road and keep walking. My head was buzzing with rage, eyesight blurred by tears. Soon enough, the concrete turned to grass. My feet were leading me... Right where I needed to be.
A meadow stretched before me. A familiar meadow. I knew now for sure where I was going. The meadow turned into a hill. It was steep, an exhausting climb. But I'd made it before. I trip over a rock as I fall on top of the hill. Before me stood the Old Oak. It was massive, and bare with the cold weather coming. I slowly stand and put my hand to the tree. The bark was rough and frosted. I begin circling the tree, feeling every bump and nick as I walk around. Until I found what I came for...
I fall to my knees in front of it, sending a shock through my body. I ignored it as the years became waterfalls. But I could still read the epitaph:
My body stiffens. "DAMN IT! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO?!" I scream. "You were the only one... The only one to ever care..." my right hand runs along the gravestone. It felt like ice; smooth, cold, damp. The sun did nothing for the crisp December air. I lean my notebook up against the gravestone. "You always liked my writings..."
I take a deep breath. "I wrote about you for class... I'm sure you know how that went..." I wanted to yell at him for not being there to protect me... But his time had come. He couldn't help me. No one would now... I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Two squirrels squeaked above me in the tree. I look up, admiring the beauty of freedom, of fraternity...
"Marcus... I know you won't approve..." I whisper to the stone. My hand makes its way to the pocket on my right pant leg. It takes out the switchblade he had given me. I took a minute to finger the handle, the smooth plastic. "But I have to leave... And your knife is the instrument I choose..." I click the button on the handle, flicking out the blade. "I couldnt help you... I can't help myself.." I whisper to him, placing the chilled, stainless steel to my wrist. My body shivers in response. "You can chew me out when I get there..." At last, I finally smile. For Marcus.
"See you soon, my dear friend..." I whisper.
Then I, like the stone, the air, the tree, and the world, became cold, as my eyes closed in preparation for Death's warm embrace...
----------------------
"It hurts. It hurts worse than any blade, any disease, any bullet. It hurts worse than any physical pain that anyone has ever experiennced, or ever will. I speak of sorrow... The pain in your best friend's eyes... And all you want to do is help them. But you can't... You must sit there, like a helpless babe, watching the one you care about suffer. No matter what, nothing you can do will mend the wounds on their hearts. A never-ending cycle of pain. An unrecognizable mask worn on their face, so when they say they're okay... You believe it..."
"Will you SHUT UP, you Emo freak, yo?!" the cliché 'tough guy jock' Dylan yells from across the room. Traces of laughter and giggling cripple the attention I'd held.
And I say nothing. As always. Always the little wallflower, when it came to voicing my hate. I'd just stood up and poured my heart out to these 'popular, cool kids.' I mean, what's the point in joining a writing class if you won't even let another person read? I'd always listened to every filthy word they'd put onto their papers, so apathetically. Every line the same as their last, just writing about little things. Enough to pass the class. Enough to become terribly redundant after two weeks.
As always, I'd put my soul through that pen and onto paper. I'd be ridiculed. And called... Freak.. A name sharper than Excalibur itself. And every time, it pierced my heart, wounded the mind, corroded the soul. And this time, like always, the tears blinded me. My anger... I'd never been so infuriated in my life! I simply remove myself from the Presenting Pedestal and blend back into my seat. They'd finished their mocking, as Dylan made it a point to hit the back of my head with his notebooks he made his way to the Pedestal. And the Wallflower slunk further into the hard wooden chair...
Thankfully, before he could present, the final bell rang. I stand up as hastily as possible, leaving my bag, taking only the notebook I had clutched to my chest. I'm out of the room before any others. I forced my way through the overly-obnoxious population of the school I loathe so much, and threw open the door that was the exit to this cage.
I storm past my bus. I had no intention of dealing with those idiots as well. I begin treading the path in the back of the school, swearing off the mosquito stragglers that attacked me. I stumble over a fallen branch, swearing a hurricane at that, too. I sigh heavily, hoping to lighten my chest. I was breathless with fury. A few more minutes got me off the path, and at the intersection. It was abnormally empty, so I cross the road and keep walking. My head was buzzing with rage, eyesight blurred by tears. Soon enough, the concrete turned to grass. My feet were leading me... Right where I needed to be.
A meadow stretched before me. A familiar meadow. I knew now for sure where I was going. The meadow turned into a hill. It was steep, an exhausting climb. But I'd made it before. I trip over a rock as I fall on top of the hill. Before me stood the Old Oak. It was massive, and bare with the cold weather coming. I slowly stand and put my hand to the tree. The bark was rough and frosted. I begin circling the tree, feeling every bump and nick as I walk around. Until I found what I came for...
I fall to my knees in front of it, sending a shock through my body. I ignored it as the years became waterfalls. But I could still read the epitaph:
Marcus Adam Reed
March 1995-November 2011
R.i.p. Forever in our hearts
March 1995-November 2011
R.i.p. Forever in our hearts
My body stiffens. "DAMN IT! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO?!" I scream. "You were the only one... The only one to ever care..." my right hand runs along the gravestone. It felt like ice; smooth, cold, damp. The sun did nothing for the crisp December air. I lean my notebook up against the gravestone. "You always liked my writings..."
I take a deep breath. "I wrote about you for class... I'm sure you know how that went..." I wanted to yell at him for not being there to protect me... But his time had come. He couldn't help me. No one would now... I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Two squirrels squeaked above me in the tree. I look up, admiring the beauty of freedom, of fraternity...
"Marcus... I know you won't approve..." I whisper to the stone. My hand makes its way to the pocket on my right pant leg. It takes out the switchblade he had given me. I took a minute to finger the handle, the smooth plastic. "But I have to leave... And your knife is the instrument I choose..." I click the button on the handle, flicking out the blade. "I couldnt help you... I can't help myself.." I whisper to him, placing the chilled, stainless steel to my wrist. My body shivers in response. "You can chew me out when I get there..." At last, I finally smile. For Marcus.
"See you soon, my dear friend..." I whisper.
Then I, like the stone, the air, the tree, and the world, became cold, as my eyes closed in preparation for Death's warm embrace...
