A Unique and Torn Romance

I went to the pond. I didn’t wanna deal with the tormenting and the giggles of my fellow students. Neither did I want to deal with Bob. He wouldn’t treat me any differently. He had his status to upkeep and his posse to impress. I was just a loser to exploit.

Maybe I should let myself get exploited. It seems to be the only reasonable thing happening in my life.
I mean; I turn out to be gay, which I’ve apparently been since I was 13 – at least. I’m accident-prone. Every bad thing that could happen seems to happen to me. My parents don’t help me. My brother most certainly doesn’t help me. Not even my “best friend” is there for me. My genes are haunting me – limiting my life. I have to wear a hat. I have to shave every day. I can’t loathe. I’m even afraid of contact, when all I really want is to be close to someone – anyone.

I know it’s all shallow. I know I’m being whiney and pathetic, and that I should just suck it up and make something of my life instead of sitting around and staring down into a pond, but fuck!
I can’t take it! I’m screwed! I can never go anywhere with this fucking horn in my head! At some point I’ll have to get a job, and they won’t let me wear a torn, worn, dirty Pantera or Metallica hat.
And most importantly; I don’t want to! I don’t wanna wear a stupid hat anymore! I don’t wanna have to hide anything!
I don’t want anything to hide!

I get up and walk back towards my car. It’s not even my car. It’s my brothers. When he visits, he demands that he uses the car. He never even asks if I wanna come along – he just comes home, snatches the keys and drives off to pick up Frank. I don’t even wanna think about how many time those two have fucked in the backseat.
I unlock the door and almost break the key when I pull it back out. I rip open the door, and of course; it falls off the hinges again.

I close my eyes and clench my jaw and fists for a few minutes, before I fix the door – hooking it back onto the hinges – and get into the car.
I slam the door shut and stick the key in the ignition and turn it.
I stare ahead into the 'forest' of small trees – perfectly lined up. Slowly the trees become blurry.
I lean forward against the steering wheel. I let out a sob, but it drowns in the sound of the car horn.

I freak.

I start banging both of my hands against the fucking horn. It squeals over and over again, before I break down completely and start sobbing.
I lean my head against the car window and let the tears stream down my face and the whimpers and sobs escape my lips. I pull my legs up – maneuvering them past the steering wheel – and place my dirty shoes on the seat. I don’t care if it gets dirty or if I ruin the upholstery – Gerard can deal with that if it’s so damn horrible.
I wrap my arms around my knees and lay my head on them. My shins are pressed against the steering wheel, but I guess they can’t reach the horn.

Everything is so wrong right now.

I rock back and forth a little.

It all just keeps fucking up.

I keep my head on my knees, while my hands slide around my legs and settle of my stomach. It hurts.

Everything keeps going wrong or breaking or failing when I’m around.

I dig my nails into the skin of my stomach.

I cause bad luck wherever I go.