I Suck At Living
Chapter 1
It seems as if when I say that this will be the last time, it always ends up a lie, as pure as sugar cane. I sigh and grab the start of an early grave. The cool metal makes my heart thrust out farther than before. Adrenaline kicks in like pins and needles when you haven't moved a limb for a long time. I slip the sleek metal tool into my black pants pocket and head for my special place, the electric tower.
The electric tower has been my special hideout since God knows when. It has provided a safe haven for me when my parents aren't home and I'm too afraid to move in my own house. Pathetic, paranoid teenager. I head up the street, walking with shaky crooked steps. I feel eyes on my back, I know I do. I turn around and expect someone to be looking out their window, probably staring at my differences between the world. It always happens, I know it does. They look at me with a blend of fear, confusion, and wrong judgement.
If you're that paranoid about everyone stttttttttaring at you, then ch-ch-change your clothes, fixyourhair, and act like a girllll for once, scowls my mother, her words slurring like usual.
You will never understand, you will never understand, you will never understand, you will never understand! I rant in my head, banging the weak paths and corners with my already scarred body. The imaginary thuds, bangs, and slams make my head feel as though a dull hammer hovers above it, tapping a few nails into my skull. They beg to dig deeper.
I continue to walk around, hoping that it was nothing. It's misty and chilly, which draws me back to my dulled senses. I pass a few main roads, barely noticing the "DO NOT WALK" sign flash. Fuck it. The cars are to far away for me to have gotten in their way.
Who is in those cars? Busy gray-suited men who practically have their cellphones surgically sewed to their ears? Who ignore their children and treat them as if they do not have beating pulses, brains, emotions?
I head up the street, walk, walk, walk... God, what the fuck takes me so long? I can feel my start of my early grave digging into my leg. It slants in an akward position, I move my leg to walk, and it tips over the rim of my jeans. Onto the sidewalk. For everyone to see. Holy. Shit.
Being a fairly crowded street, I hurried to snatch it, grazing the stratch marks on the cheap plastic. I looked around to see if anyone saw me. A lady quickly closed the curtains. But where was she going? To the phone and ring the police? Ignore it, ignore it.
I briskly walk to the end of the street towards the woodsy terrain. The best place to slip over the barbed wire and up to my haven. I grasp the freezing metal chain link fence weakly and climb up about nine feet of it until I reach the top. You'd think electric barbed wire would be a little more complicated than climbing up the tall tree next to it and jumping down (holding onto rubber scraps from a junkyard for protection in case I miss, thats not the way I want to die.) I hit the ground and my knees shatter. I can never get used to it, it's whirlwind of surprise, slight danger, and awaiting pain. Especially when I land on rocks. I hit the ground (well, rocks and Coke can), and wince. Shit. Aww... that's gonna leave a mark. A shiver runs down my back as I rise slowly. Reopened scabs bleed. My trek to the tower has officially started.
It's not one of those major half-mile high towers, but it's high enough for me to get scared shitless out of (doesn't take much). About thirty feet until the first platform. Slim, with black and white sections of freezing metal. Filled with memories of my shaky hands climbing ten feet onto the first thin pole until the ladder starts to the first platform. I barely succeeded with the ten foot climb. The residue from last night's storm seeped into my bleeding knee and a wall of firey pain erupted. A tear started to form in my eye, but I squinted it back in. That's all I ever do, just let emotions seep back into me and wait for another time when I can turn them into blood and let them seep out.
When I reached the platform, I nervously shoot a glance in all directions. Eyes on your back, eyes on your back. I turned around, only to find nothing. I blow out slightly visible breath, lean against the wall, and slide down. Do I really want to do this? No. Do I need to do this? Shut up, like I could really quit anytime I want. It's a necessity, an addiction, like vampires with blood. They need eachother to live. I need mine to die.
The electric tower has been my special hideout since God knows when. It has provided a safe haven for me when my parents aren't home and I'm too afraid to move in my own house. Pathetic, paranoid teenager. I head up the street, walking with shaky crooked steps. I feel eyes on my back, I know I do. I turn around and expect someone to be looking out their window, probably staring at my differences between the world. It always happens, I know it does. They look at me with a blend of fear, confusion, and wrong judgement.
If you're that paranoid about everyone stttttttttaring at you, then ch-ch-change your clothes, fixyourhair, and act like a girllll for once, scowls my mother, her words slurring like usual.
You will never understand, you will never understand, you will never understand, you will never understand! I rant in my head, banging the weak paths and corners with my already scarred body. The imaginary thuds, bangs, and slams make my head feel as though a dull hammer hovers above it, tapping a few nails into my skull. They beg to dig deeper.
I continue to walk around, hoping that it was nothing. It's misty and chilly, which draws me back to my dulled senses. I pass a few main roads, barely noticing the "DO NOT WALK" sign flash. Fuck it. The cars are to far away for me to have gotten in their way.
Who is in those cars? Busy gray-suited men who practically have their cellphones surgically sewed to their ears? Who ignore their children and treat them as if they do not have beating pulses, brains, emotions?
I head up the street, walk, walk, walk... God, what the fuck takes me so long? I can feel my start of my early grave digging into my leg. It slants in an akward position, I move my leg to walk, and it tips over the rim of my jeans. Onto the sidewalk. For everyone to see. Holy. Shit.
Being a fairly crowded street, I hurried to snatch it, grazing the stratch marks on the cheap plastic. I looked around to see if anyone saw me. A lady quickly closed the curtains. But where was she going? To the phone and ring the police? Ignore it, ignore it.
I briskly walk to the end of the street towards the woodsy terrain. The best place to slip over the barbed wire and up to my haven. I grasp the freezing metal chain link fence weakly and climb up about nine feet of it until I reach the top. You'd think electric barbed wire would be a little more complicated than climbing up the tall tree next to it and jumping down (holding onto rubber scraps from a junkyard for protection in case I miss, thats not the way I want to die.) I hit the ground and my knees shatter. I can never get used to it, it's whirlwind of surprise, slight danger, and awaiting pain. Especially when I land on rocks. I hit the ground (well, rocks and Coke can), and wince. Shit. Aww... that's gonna leave a mark. A shiver runs down my back as I rise slowly. Reopened scabs bleed. My trek to the tower has officially started.
It's not one of those major half-mile high towers, but it's high enough for me to get scared shitless out of (doesn't take much). About thirty feet until the first platform. Slim, with black and white sections of freezing metal. Filled with memories of my shaky hands climbing ten feet onto the first thin pole until the ladder starts to the first platform. I barely succeeded with the ten foot climb. The residue from last night's storm seeped into my bleeding knee and a wall of firey pain erupted. A tear started to form in my eye, but I squinted it back in. That's all I ever do, just let emotions seep back into me and wait for another time when I can turn them into blood and let them seep out.
When I reached the platform, I nervously shoot a glance in all directions. Eyes on your back, eyes on your back. I turned around, only to find nothing. I blow out slightly visible breath, lean against the wall, and slide down. Do I really want to do this? No. Do I need to do this? Shut up, like I could really quit anytime I want. It's a necessity, an addiction, like vampires with blood. They need eachother to live. I need mine to die.