Damn, I Hate You

It was about three thirty when we decided she should start getting home. The movie was great, but we couldn't pay much attention anyway. We were talking, her getting to know more about me and me about her.

"So what's your favorite band?" I asked her. You can tell a lot about someone by their musical tastes.

"Uh, I think... it's actually a toss up. Green Day, Blink 182, or Sum 41." She replied.

"Hmmm.. All good bands. Green Day pre or post American Idiot? Like, what do you prefer?"

"Psh, pre, of course! But they're still good." She reasoned. "How about you?"

"Well, I think I'd have to say All That Remains or Soilwork." I said. "Depends a bit on my mood. But if I'm feelin happy, I always listen to Blink, so cheers to one thing in common." I said sarcastically.

"Ok, my turn. What's your favorite movie?" God, how many times had I been asked that?

"Uh, I think... Unleashed." And we just went on and on for hours talking about random stuff like that. It's funny how you can sit with someone and talk about shit like that and yet still feel this driving connection that says you two are made to be so much more.

"So is it always like that?" She asked when I reached her doorstep.

"Random and fun with me? Hell yeah, you know that." I smiled. I honestly did think she was talking about the past hour or so we had spent together, not drudging up ancient history.

"No, I mean..." And we both looked down.

"Uh, yeah, actually." I admitted. "But no big deal. You gotta roll with the punches. No pun intended." I joked.

"You can always come and hang out at my place. You know, if things get too crazy or dangerous at your house." She said. I sighed.

"Don't worry about me. Please. How long have I spent without anyone giving a damn. I don't need to-"

"But now it's different. Now you do have someone. The world is always changing, and you can always rely on me, now." she said.

"Whoa, my wisdom rubbing off on you? Someone's got responses!" I said, a bit impressed.

"Haha, I guess. Ew, the last thing I want is to be like you." She said, emphasizing it retardedly to bug me. We both smiled. I reached in to hug her, but she stood up on her tippie-toes at the last second and gave me a kiss. I held her and returned the kiss, happy that I was finally able to feel human again. It was a perfect day. It was a perfect life. I love it. Then it all was over, and she shut the door as I walked away. I wanted to turn back and tell her I love her, but I couldn't. I don't know if I love her. I still don't know if love is the right word. I still don't know what love is, but if this is it, I definately am content with loving her the rest of my life.

I got home in time for the school to call. It was the stupid machine informing me what I already knew. Blah blah blah. I hung up and turned on the television set. How long did I have until his return? Eh, fuck it. I went over to my computer. Same old lame websites with the same losers wanting to talk to me.

Finally I opened up Microsoft Word and began to type. The words floated their way from my mind and onto the screen. By the time I was done, I was almost crying. I was feeling so much so fast for the first time. I wasn't comfortable with it. And yet here was perhaps the most honest thing I'd ever written.

"We are the forsaken; The forgotten and forlorn.
As our hopes are diminished and morale is worn.
Our hearts find sanction in a cage of hidden fears
And hide beneath a sheild of anger pent up over these years.
It hurts them to approach as the light finally shines through;
They race and panic, unsure of what to do.
Then curiosity overpowers them and they step to feel it's heat.
It's invigorating to realize there's a world after defeat.
They start to come back to life, a life they thought they'd lost.
But death is not forever. You must just sweep away the frost."

My dad stormed in. I saved the document and sat, ready for his worst. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked. He didn't sound too mad. In fact, it sounded a little... well, no, not normal, but as casual as I'd heard him speak in awhile.

"Just writing up an English paper." I replied.

"Oh don't tell me it's that faggot ass poetry shit you always scribble." He sighed in exasperation. No, dad, it's not faggot ass poetry; it's my soul being poured onto the screen... I can never say that, though, because then he would definatly beat me for thinking I was gay. Haha.

"Get you're ass up." He said, and pushed me from my chair. "You don't ever bring people into my house, you know better than that." he scolded, pushing my head around.

"I know. I dunno what I was thinking earlier." I lied. I was thinking I would be alone here for a few hours and could get away with showing her the real me at my house. Stupid me.

"Well, I think I scared her from coming here ever again." he smiled at me. Wait, was that it? Just a couple head shoves? Whoa, I'm lucky tonight! "Now go fix my dinner. Make use of your worthless ass." he said. I should've known.

"If I'm so worthless you couldn't make use of me, genius." I mumbled. That's when it all went black.