Drowning: She slams the door shut, shaking the house with pure madness. My parents step out of the house, and take their big argument outside. I walked over to the window and watched their lousy arguing. It always ends up in the same place. One either gets kicked out of the house or someone leaves and doesn’t come back till a few days later. I was lying down on my lonely bed, looking at the ceiling fan go round and round. I was surrounded by the thin, white walls and the sounds of bickering outside by my parents. I breathed in and breathed out the sweet air that is circling around me. This was my normal life.
Everyday, I go upstairs to my boring bedroom, set down my backpack, get out my headphones, and let myself wander through the beautiful ballads and lyrics. “Glazed eyes, empty hearts. Buying happy from shopping carts. ” I try to silent the problems of the world by turning up the music, it usually works for a while. As I listen in depth of the true meaning of the lyrics, my brain goes off into a blank space. Buying happy from shopping carts? How can one buy happiness from shopping carts? You can’t buy happiness. Happiness isn’t an object, right? Those four words echoed inside of my head. You know what, Jackson? I can’t believe you did that.
Tonight, you’re sleeping out of the house. Don’t you dare, ever do that again,” screams out my mother to my father. “Lauren! Oh Lauren! You are so blind with your life. You have one kid and you can’t raise him right! You call yourself a mother? ,” my dad furiously yelled back. After, he walked out to his red broken-down car and left. Again. I closed my eyes, and breathed in. Wet tear drops slid down across my rosy cheeks, and once it began, I couldn’t stop. Dark thoughts were tackling inside my brain, and there was no silver lining to it.
I had one job in my life, to become a normal straight teenage boy and I couldn’t do it. The music started to get louder, the world started to get blurrier, and I couldn’t handle it. What was my purpose in this world? My cries kept on growing stronger, and so did my thoughts. I was drowning in my tears, and before I knew it, I fell asleep. Ding. Two seconds later, clink. I open my eyes and looked around me. What was that noise? My vision was blurry, and my music was still playing. I grab my phone that was beside me, and check it. Shoot! It was already 3 a. m. on Sunday. I wearily got up from my messy bed, and walked towards the door.
As I walked downstairs, I see my mom drinking alcohol, hazardly. Besides her, there were many bottles of beer, vodka, gin, anything you can name. “Hey, Greg! What are you doing so eerrlly” she drunkenly says to me. I look at her sad eyes with disgust, and that was when I had decided that I had no more tolerance for my life anymore. Before we go any further, let me tell you the story from the beginning. My name is Greg Darnell. Son of two alcoholic messes, artist, dreamer, and student at the most amazing school on the Earth, Rockhedge High School. Who am I kidding, it is the worst school you can ever go to.
You have teachers that don’t even care if you ditch, a school that is like Alcatraz Jr. , and books that were bought a decade ago. I mean Rockhedge is an alternative punishment instead of jail. Even the teachers, wish they never chose the educator path. Anyways, more about me. T, Greg Darnell, is not like any other teenage boy, well mostly. I’m what they call gay. Gasp! Let’s just say no one likes a gay like me. My classmates make fun of me, but I got used to it during the middle of freshman year. Plus, my parents think that this is just a phase but I really don’t know if it is.
It’s like my emotions, I don’t know if I’m happy or if I’m sad. Somedays, I’m on my bed crying my eyeballs out, while on others it’s like my life is a Unicorn Island. I guess you can call me confused, and I think that is what I’ll ever be. It was on Monday, when I wanted to break down, right then and there. When he said the words, “I can’t give vou happiness anymore… ” We were in the school hallways during lunch, sitting down on the bench where we usually sit, when I knew something was up. He has been avoiding me all day, and hadn’t spoken to me since last week.
I thought it was because he was busy with football and every other sport he plays, but I guess that wasn’t it. “So Connor, how was your weekend? ” I asked him, trying to start a conversation. He stared at the floor for what felt like a minute until he finally spoke. “I can’t give you happiness anymore, Greg. I just feel like you’ve changed and you’re not the Greg that I fell for. ” He looked me right in the eye, patted my shoulder, and left. He left, like my dad. You’d expect me to cry, I didn’t, but I wanted to. I got up from the bench, walked, and went to my next class. I just went on my normal routine the whole day.
My thoughts tried to avoid Connor, but when I went home I started to sob harder and harder every second. The only person that really loved me, the person that I really thought cared about me, was going to let my towers fall. I fell for it, again. I knew I would, but I didn’t say no when he asked me out. I could have. I should have. After a few days later, I got numb from the pain, so I didn’t feel anything. I started to sneak the alcohol from my mom’s cabinet and bring it in the room for myself. leven remember one night, when my feelings started to get stronger, I had started cutting myself.
My parents kept on fighting every night, and I would always cry myself to sleep. When it came to school though, I was the happiest kid ever. Everyone at school knew me as the gay guy who was teased, but had a great life. How incorrect they were makes me laugh every time. Only if they knew. There were times when I even believed I was happy. My brain is just a ball of confusion. Now here we are when I said I have no tolerance for my life anymore. I went back upstairs to my room. Grabbed my mom’s car keys and phone. I looked around, and finally got the polaroid picture I had of me and Connor.
I opened my bedroom window, and climbed out. It was cold outside. The chilly wind swept, and made my hair stick out from my skin, making me shiver. I carefully and quietly went down onto the wet grass. I tip-toed to the van that was parked on the curb, and looked back. I attentively observed the house one last time. “Goodbye, mom. ” I whispered. I walked in the car, and drove off. I didn’t know where I was going, but it was for sure somewhere far away. You may be wondering what I’m doing, he is sure of a psychopath. I wouldn’t really call myself as a psychopath, it’s just me making a horrible decision when I can’t control myself.
That is what we tend to do because we are humans actually. When we aren’t ourselves, we make choices where we will regret them later, but I do have to agree that the decision that I’m making is crazy. As I drive somewhere in the middle of the night, I start to to have horrendous flashbacks. The time my dad hit my mom when I was seven years old to the time kids at school called me names that will always be stuck in the back of my head. I weeped my eyes out. I stepped on the gas pedal harder, and zoomed through the desert for what felt like hours and hours. Until my mind made it ‘s choice on what I was going.
