We've Learned to Run from Anything Uncomfortable

Tuesday, June 21st

I can hear Tom and Matt in the hallway, outside of my door. I don't think they understand that their whispers are equivalent to the way my mum screamed at me when I finally came through the front door of our house last night.

“Yeh stink Olleh! I can’t believe yeh think it’s alrigh’ stayin’ out all night and comin’ ‘ome like that!”

Ever since I came back to Sheffield, I've been treated the same way I was before I left. My mum is always yelling at me, telling me what I'm doing wrong, never happy about anything.

No one in the house wants to be around me, and I can't say that I blame them. I'm a huge mess. I haven't showered in well over four days. I haven't been anywhere but outside, only to come in the house near morning completely sloshed, cigarette smoke following me from miles down the road and sex pouring off my body. I don't want to be around myself either. I hate myself. I hate myself for what I did to Sam. I left her behind and didn't have the decency to tell her good bye.

I'm still waiting for her to show up on my door step with a bag and some type of smile on her face. I could care less if she showed up with a knife in one hand and my death certificate in the other. I just want to see her. I need to see her.

I talked to Lynn the other day and she said Sam freaked out after she gave her the ticket and she hasn't seen or heard from her since. She tried calling Marilyn and Marsha, but the only thing they could tell Lynn was that Sam was still alive.

They think she is anyways. She hasn't left her room since she walked all the way back to Marsha's from Lynn's and the only way they know she hasn't wilted away and slipped through the cracks in her floor is the fact that the food they've been leaving by her door has disappeared.

I keep thinking if I would have just explained things to Sam, this would be so much different. Lynn wouldn’t have wasted $1,500 she didn't have and I would still have some type of contact with Sam. Whether it be arguing over the phone, or short emails.

Anything would be better than what I have right now. Which is absolutely nothing.

My mum is pissed at me because she thinks I'm being an arse because I had to come home. Tom seems to think it's because I didn't get laid, and my dad just thinks I'm having trouble getting used to the time change.

While only two of these things are true, I can't help but add another to the list.

I miss Sam.

I left behind the one girl who'd actually meant something to me. I didn't want to fuck Sam, I didn't want to hurt Sam, I didn't want to get wasted with Sam, and I definitely didn't want to leave her. I wanted to spend my day with her, holding her small hands and arguing with her or just watching a movie. I wanted to make her angry and then give her a cigarette so she would talk to me. I wanted to kiss her softly and then pull away so I could watch her grin form and her cheeks change to a soft pink.

“Oi, shut up yeh prat. ‘e’s gonna ‘ear us!” Tom grumbled.

I rolled my eyes and continued to ignore the two blokes outside of my bedroom door.

"Piss off Tom! We gotta talk to 'im. We can't just act like 'e's not in there." I heard Matt say.

"'E don't care enough teh talk teh us, so why should we try and talk to 'im?!" Tom shrieked in a whisper.

"Yer an arse, Tom. Olleh's always there fer yeh."

I listened as Tom didn’t reply. I then imagined that stupid smirk that always came to Matt’s face when he knew he was right. I’d seen a lot of that face over the years.

The knob to my door twisted softly and Matt appeared at the door, "'Ey Olleh. Yeh wanna go fer a swim? I found yer trunks." He grinned, holding up my old swim shorts.

"Oi, Matt," I sighed, "'M not up fer swimmin' today."

He closed the door behind him, shutting Tom out of the room and dragged his feet across the floor. He stood on the side of my bed and looked down at me. I've never felt so ashamed in my life. I knew what he was looking at. He was looking at someone who didn't care about anything, not even enough to take care of himself. Matt was looking at the epitome of a piece of shit. Not only did I feel like one, I had managed to perfect looking like one as well.

He sat down at the end of my bed, "Yeh don' feel like doin' much of anythin' these days."

"'M sorreh Matt. I jus' feel like shit all of the time."

"I was real excited fer yeh teh come back, mate. Yeh've really let me down."

"Oi, don' go pullin' that shit on meh."

"What shit Olleh? 'M fuckin' serious. No one wants teh be around yeh. Yeh act like a bloody idiot! Yeh ain’t the only one in this world with feelings, alrigh’? I know yeh think yer foolin’ everyone, sittin’ in yer room. Yeh think we all think yer just mad,” He paused, “Well yeh wanna know something’? I know yeh better ‘n that. An’ I’m sorreh yeh fucked up, but yeh need to quit playin’ the victim.”

"Piss off." I said sourly, shifting my feet around so he wasn't leaning against them.

"If yeh ain't too busy, out gettin' pissed, yer sittin' in yeh damn room feelin' sorry for yerself."

"Yeh were all fine with meh gone!" I shouted suddenly, sitting up, "Why'd yeh make meh come back?"

Matt's expression made me sick to my stomach. My best friend had to resort to hating me, I'd become such a self absorbed prick, "Yeh know what Olleh? Why'd yeh 'ave to come back and treat everyone like shit? Why'd yeh 'ave teh come back and drink all the time? Why'd yeh 'ave teh come back at all?"

"I didn' want teh come back!" I hollered back, way ahead of myself, "I fuckin' 'ate it 'ere! Yeh know that? It fuckin' sucks!"

"What was so fuckin' wonderful abou' yer little America? Eh?"

"Nothin'." I muttered.

"Nothin', huh? Yeh jus' 'ate it 'ere so much?"

"Get out." I muttered, on the verge of tears.

"Why? I ain' good enough fer yeh now?"

"Leave Matt."

"I ain't leavin'."

"Get the fuck out!" I yelled, reaching forward with both my arms and pushing Matt off my bed.

I untangled myself from my blankets and dived onto the floor, punching Matt in the face.

"Oi! Get off meh yeh fuckin' freak!" He yelled.

I heard my door squeak open and I listened as Tom ran across my bedroom floor. He wrapped two arms around my shoulders and pushed me backwards. I lifted my feet up and tumbled over him, landing on top of him. I quickly stood up and did my best at hiding my tears.

"Get the fuck out!" I screamed, my voice shaking, "Both of yeh! Now!"

Matt collected himself and clutched his lip, which was bleeding profusely. I watched as him and Tom quickly made for my door.

"Yeh really need teh get a grip." Tom muttered, slamming my door shut.

I listened as my breathing steadied, and I couldn't stop myself from crying. Tears poured from my eyes and I choked on my own sobs, my throat sore from smoking and my head cloudy from being hung over.

I stumbled over to my bed and sprawled myself across it, my body shaking the mattress. I curled up slowly and wrapped myself in my sheets, trying to hold myself together. But, it didn't work. My feelings spewed over everything, tears falling, sobs crying, and my voice was strangled against my pillow.

"Oliver Scott Sykes! I tell yeh I'm sick of yer attitude and I'm gonna-" My mum screamed, throwing my door open.

I heard her quiet and the door closed softly. Her small feet carried her over to my bed and she placed a hand against my back, running it against the dirty cotton of my t shirt. I heard her breath become short and voice trickled out in soft sobs.

"Olleh. I don' like seein' yeh like this. What's goin' on?" She asked, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me towards her.

I let her lift me up and I leaned against her, "Everyone 'ates meh." I muttered.

"No one 'ates yeh, baby."

"Yes mum," I sobbed, "Yeh hate meh, Matt 'ates meh, Dad 'ates meh, and Sam 'ates meh. Tom even ‘ates meh."

"Olleh." She said so quietly, I almost didn't hear her, "I don't 'ate yeh."

"Yeh sure seem like it Mum."

She pulled away from me and looked at me. I felt like a total loser, sobbing against my mum at the age of eighteen and whining about how my life sucks and everyone hates me, but I couldn't help it.

She kissed me softly on the forehead and pushed my greasy hair from my face, "I don' 'ate yeh baby. Things 'ave just been horrid around 'ere lately, and I guess I've been takin' it out on yeh," She paused and pulled me into a hug, "'M sorreh."

"'S alright." I muttered against her shoulder.

My mum pulled away from me again, "Who's Sam?"

She asked it so bluntly. Not with sarcasm, not with happiness, not with curiostity. She almost stated it. She might as well have said, 'Tell meh who Sam is.'

I looked up at her, "A friend."

"Why do yeh care so much if he 'ates yeh?"

"Cause mum."

"Olleh dear. He ain't just a friend," She said, shaking her head and deciding not to believe me, "If he was just a friend, yeh wouldn' be torn up. Maybe yeh need teh tell everyone?"

"Tell everyone what?" I paused and it sunk it, "Oi mum! I ain't gay."

"Olleh, 'ts nothin' teh be-"

For the first time in a while, a small chuckle whistled from between my teeth, "Mum. Sam's a bird."

A small smile darted across her lips, "Oh," And it was quickly gone as she said, "Is this the bird yeh said yeh'd met in the States?"

"Yep Mum, that's 'er." I said, a slight grin coming to my face, "She's amazin'."

Her body suddenly went rigid and she let go of me, a disgusted look coming over her face, "Get over it Olleh. Yeh ain' ever gonna see 'er again."

My face fell and my stomach felt sick as I watched her stand up. She turned the knob to the door and took no time looking back before she shut the door swiftly.

I let out a sigh, not believing what she just said to me.

How could she just come in here like that and act like we were going to be okay and then tell me to get over Sam, like she doesn’t matter? She just doesn’t get it. And if I sit there and tell her I’m in love with Sam, all she’d do is laugh at me and make me feel even worse than I already do.

All I know is I can’t continue treating Matt, Tom and my dad the way I am. I could care less about my mum. If she ain’t going to treat me like I matter, I’m not going to go out of my way to treat her nicely either.

I fucking hate it here. I hate it how Tom is too ignorant to think of how hard it was to leave Sam, I hate it how my mum just doesn't give a shit and she wants to think that if she ignores everything, it will just go away. I hate how my dad doesn't even try getting his word in.

But, I mostly hate how Matt knows me as well as he does, and I don't even have enough decency to tell him what's going on.

I just need some way to get out of this mess. I need to find something to do. I need some one to talk to.

I’ve got to stop the drinking, and messing around with whoever I please, just because I’m upset.

I need Sam.

I looked down at my unfinished lyrics on the floor and picked up my pen, lacing the page with ink as quickly as I could. If I was going to hate life, I was going to make something from it.