Lost in the Weeping Willows

I loved trees, they were my best friends. They sat silently as I spoke to them and never made fun of me. Not like people, no people always ridiculed me and found mean things to say. So I was a loner. I lived my days hidden in the trees. I basked in the glory of the trees. They never tried to harm me not the way people did.

The tears strains were still fresh on my face and it stung to cry. I had bruises and cuts from the latest group of assholes who jumped me. My eyes were puffy and swollen and I knew when I got home my dad would give me a speech about ‘maning up.’ Then he would call me a fag and tell me I am not worthy to be the son of an U.S Marine. He would beat me for being a wimp then ground me sending me to my room.

So prolong the painful truth I sit under my trees and tell them what assholes I go to school with. I tell them that Bethany will never notice me. That I will never be able to kiss her supple lips or play with her luscious hair. I will never get to touch her soft breasts or leave a trail of kisses down her body until I reach my sweet destination. No she just thinks I am a loser like everyone else on the cruel planet.

I closed my eyes and I saw her wavy blonde hair and deep sea green eyes. Her olive tone skin and shapely body, I just wanted to touch her. I felt my manhood grow and the thought of her. How was that for manning up? I mentally told my dad. At the thought of him junior receded. I couldn’t blame him I wish I could hide from my dad. He was such a tyrant. I hated him.

I leaned my head against the bark and winced at the pain it caused to shot through my body. I hate those guys I thought as I rubbed the back of my head. It started to rain just my luck I thought just my luck. Now I would dirty my clothes and my dad would roar 'what kind of fag is always dirty?' I sighed my life was a hopeless and sucked so bad.

My mom bailed on my dad because he was such a dick. She never turned back once. I was only five. They say I have her calming honey eyes. They also say that I have her untamable orange hair. I had her freckles that were sprinkled across my face. My dad hated it. He hated anything that had to do with her, which is how I knew that he hated me.

The wind rustled my trees leaves and I listened to the sweet sounds. It soothed me a little but that was all it could do. At this point I was branded a loser in everyway. Even the nerds laughed at me and took turns throwing things at me or just plain beating me up. I had lost all hope of ever being cool and I knew I would die a virgin. The purest man on earth. I had never even been kissed for god’s sake. The thought of death warmed me. A sweet escape from the confines of this hell. I would rather be dead then anyway near this place. If it wasn’t for my trees I would have died a long long ago.

I sat a while longer and thought about why I still lived. I had no hope anymore so I might as well die. I could end it here today. No one would notice for days. They wouldn’t miss me. They wouldn’t even know where to look for my body. Not that they would care enough to even look. I had a rope in my bag just in case the day came. So yeah I thought about this before. A lot for that matter, all the damn time. I dream of it too and don’t think I always carry I rope around, nope. Yesterday I was tied up by this gay who stuck his dick in my mouth, which I then bite, and then he ran away. So I kept the damn rope, and good thing I did too.

I took the rope out of my backpack and tied it to the steadiest branch I could find. I tested it by swinging back and forth on it. It was steady and could hold me. I made a noose slipped my head into it and then jumped. That was when my trees began to weep; my sweet trees covered my body with the leaves in my last moments. It took a while and my miserable as fuck life did flash before me eyes although I rather if it didn’t and then it ended. My trees blocking my views from any eyes. Today you call my trees the weeping willows.