How I Knew, Pt. 2

    The only times he doesn't text me back is if he's asleep or if he's talking to another girl. And at this moment, I knew he wasn't asleep. I tried to convince myself so vehemently that it wasn't the latter, but I knew.
Text: JB might not join us tonight. He's taking Piper to the movies.
    Oh my gatos, my heart ached. What made that pain worse was my self-loathing because I still cared about him so much. I got that text when I was getting into a van for an hour- long trip home. That much time for thinking needs to be illegal. He fucking forgave her... This guy is almost pathetic as me!
Me: Are you going to talk all the way home?
Girl: Why? Do you want me to?
Me: I want your headphones.
   The back two rows of girls erupted in laughter. I was trying to be cool because we had won a basketball game a few hours earlier and I was very proud of them. But it was sulking time for me and I deserved it.
Girl: Oh! The left ear is louder than the right one and my little brother tore off the padding around the bud.
   I just let out a giggle and pushed them in so I could drown out the world. Usually, when I'm sad I like to listen to rock. "Uneasy Hearts Weigh the Most" by Dance Gavin Dance was what my fingers were drawn to first.
To feel her touch,
it's almost impossible to hold still.
maybe we could go back to,
the way it was.
Well, at least let me love you the same.
    Beautifully sung and so full of meaning. I immediately wanted to text Scotty. Did he know the story? What's the shortest way to explain? I started typing a text that said, "So this Piper bitch from Oga and JB stopped talking because she kissed another guy when she was drunk..."
    I deleted it all. He doesn't need to be hearing about unimportant matters like so. He has his own worries, which he still needs to tell me about.
    I spent four and a half days away from my boys and I thought about them every second. Anything and everything related back to them. They always make my cares drift away and right now I need one monstrous care to be taken away. I would approach Scotty on the subject if it came around, but I wouldn't prioritize it.
    When we got to the school, I sped to the House. I ran across the yard of the neighbor's duplex and skipped up the stairs. I pushed past two doors and there they were: just as I had left them. Penguin was sitting in the recliner closest to the door, Brown and JB were sitting on the couch, and Matt was playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3.
    "Is Scotty here?" was the first thing I said in flushed manner as I closed the door.
    "Wow!" Penguin exclaimed. "All you care about is Scotty. You don't say hi to anyone else, you always just go straight for Scotty. If you're not here to see anyone else, then don't bother coming here at all." The whole house grew silent. All you heard were the machine-gun rounds from the game. I didn't say anything either, but I did walk around the furniture and settle on a recliner across the room.
    "Can we go do this now?" I asked Brown. "I'm sad."
    "Swag," was all he replied with, and then we went downstairs.
    "When's JB leaving?" I asked as I took a deep hit off of my pipe.

    "I guess he's not going anymore. Piper stood him up," he said.
    I don't think celebrating people's misfortunes is appropriate except for sometimes. She stood him up! I just spent an hour fuming over nothing. In some sense, I consider this karma, but on the other hand, no one wants to see the person they love in pain. We smoked a bowl or two and retreated back upstairs. When I got into the living room, I walked straight to Penguin's recliner and climbed onto his lap.

    "I don't only care about Scotty," I whispered, in a soothing voice. "It's just that he's hurting, too, and understands more."

    "That's not true," he said.
    "He forgave her, didn't he?" I asked solemnly.
    "Who? Piper?" he inquired a bit too loud for liking, but I nodded. "I guess."
    "Do I have to hurt him before he cares about me?"
    "Yes." I rested on him silence for a few minutes. I hoisted myself up and grabbed a Black & Mild to smoke.

Addictions

   I deleted my Facebook approximately one hour ago, and my eyes are already sore from not being sore. Also, I've already thought of six really awesome status ideas. But all good things must come to an end. Right, Nelly Furtado?
   Status Idea #1: "Bumping to dubstep so nasty I have to change it to porn when my mom comes in."
   This guy I met at a party had it as his status a few months ago, and considering I had fallen into a recent obsession with EDM (electronic dance music), it felt appropriate. I would put quotation marks around it. That indicates no plagiarism here; there's an understood anonymous author. Ri   I'm having withdrawals because of it and it's stupid. At first, I had that euphoric feeling of accomplishment, like when I deleted my first MySpace in 2010. I had maintained that bad cat for three solid years. I signed up for Facebook about two or three years ago, but that's two or three years too many. I decided that I didn't want to see what anyone else was doing. I didn't want anyone to see what I was doing. You dig?

But it can be a pretty fun place— that Facebook. I'm going to miss my off-the-wall friends and the sharing of vulgar opinions. I'm going to miss being a click away from saying anything I want to anyone I wanted. I have a phone, but that actually requires getting people's number instead of being able to spell their name, which I'm good at.

   Even though 1984 and V For Vendetta have me convinced that the government is conspiring against society and distributing discreet propaganda through television, I don't think they're behind Facebook. I have a friend that thinks that, but his liver and lungs are shriveled so I don't imagine he's a very reliable source.
   The main reason why I had to delete my SpaceBook (what CahCah's dad calls it) is that I spend way too much time trying to keep up on other people and not enough time on my more important duties, like homework or chores or taking care of my little sister.
   I had my first-ever ditch-day today. Not that I've never missed school for no reason before, because I have. I've been in the school industry since I was 3 and I'm currently 18. I didn't even tell my mom that I wanted to leave. I just left. Because I could. I went over to this dude Prometheus's. We played some Digital Monopoly, or some other whack-ass name that rapes my childhood, with four guys. They ordered pizza and listened to Tech N9ne's newest album Welcome To Strangeland.
   On my way home around two, I smoked a bowl and caught a head-change. I went to bed and slept until eight. I woke up when my mom opened her door. (I'm a very light sleeper.)
   "Do you have anything to tell me?" Mum asked in her bitchy voice. I immediately got annoyed because I knew she knew. Why is she asking me when she already knew? Stupid.
   "Nope," I said from under my covers.
   "What do you have to tell me?" Mum repeated.
   "If you already know, then why are you asking me?"
   "Because I want you to tell me."
   "You're fucking weird." Then I heard the door close.
   All that drama is not worth knowing who's in a relationship and watching people tell the most phony "to be honest"s ever. This Facebook has got to go. I would rather vomit UV Cake for five hours... again.

Too Much

She was switching back and forth from YouTube and Facebook.
She was making this demotivational poster and went to type "paint" into the search bar of her fabulous Windows Vista Start Menu.

But her fingers drew her to another word.
Another place.
Where she was sitting in a car, getting ready to smoke a bowl, when "Faint" by Linkin Park started playing.
And her heart ached from missing him.
Especially since his stupid-ass ex started dating one of her good friends and she had to see her stupid-ass face more.
And she could see that text in her brain.
Clear.as.day


"you were just a fuck, he doesn't really care about you...not trying to be mean but...."

The truth hurts like a mo'afuckin bitch.

backspace.backspace.backspace

Remember

So, if this does end up being my last letter, please believe that things are good with me, and even when they’re not, they will be soon enough. And I will believe the same about you.

Love always,
Charlie

The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chblosky, pg. 213