Nowhere To Go
Nowhere To Go Chapter One
Shelly was sitting with her friends, smiling and laughing. It was all a farce. Her mind wasn't in it. Her mind was rebelling, absolutely rebelling. She had been doing this same thing all summer. Hang out by the beach with the same group of friends, feeling alienated in her mind. She felt set apart from everything she had ever known, like a big gust of wind would set her flying away to a new and wonderful place where no one knew her name or expected a certain pattern behavior from her. She was a believer in psychology, anthropology, and sociology; she felt that if someone expected you to act in a certain way that you would, no matter how hard you protested to the contrary.
Shelley wanted to break free from her life but didn't know how. She felt like she had nowhere to go in her current life, no important places to be or major people to meet. Everyone she met was all blurred into a mass of sameness. Same music taste with little but predictable and expected variety, same mores, same expectations, same ultimate destinations, same old shit repeating over and over like an assembly line.
Her friends were drinking beer and fruity drinks with a low alcoholic content. She scoffed inside to herself. Same college kid mentality repeated in a new generation. She felt antsy, like she wanted to go somewhere else, but she knew she had nowhere else better to go so she stayed put.
She noticed that a boy was looking at her. His name was Shawn something or other, and he was her friend's boyfriend's friend or something like that. He looked alright to Shelley. He had longish brown floppy hair, blue eyes, and lightly tanned skin. He had a nice smile and seemed like a nice guy. Maybe too nice. Shelley had the classic dilemma of preferring the bad boy type in theory, but when she wanted to really be with someone she wanted someone who wouldn't kick her to the curb and laugh about it to all his friends. It came with her preference for punk and hard rock in general. Most people looked shocked when she said she liked Dead Kennedys and The Sex Pistols and other punk bands. They thought she was too innocent, which was bullshit. She had been through more than they could even imagine in all her nineteen years.
Shawn was walking towards her. She mentally prepared herself for having a conversation with another human being. She always did this, in recent days anyway. She was in her head so much, daydreaming and fantasizing of her perfect world, that she forgot she was a part of a race of human beings. He was smiling as he sat next to her. "Hey. Shelley right?"
She responded slowly, "Right. And you're Shawn."
He nodded and smiled even more. "Right."
She sat there expectantly, waiting for him to say something else. He didn't, and she was bored, so she muttered, "I have to pee," and walked away. She didn't really have to pee, she was just bored as hell with prototypes. She took her green iPod out of her dress pocket, put the matching green headphones in, and played "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana. Shelley felt like blasting music and sitting in the sand somewhere away from her friends. She liked to watch the water rolling in with the tide, so she sat down in the sand right before it got wet. Shelley bopped her head to the beat and lost herself in the music. She got tired of sitting and then she laid down on her stomach and picked seashells out of the dry sand, sorting them by size.
After the Nirvana song ended, she was feeling angry and decided to listen to "When Ya Get Drafted" by Dead Kennedys. She was angry at her generation, she was angry at herself for being angry at her generation, but most of all she was just angry. Shelley had a well of anger inside her that began when she was bullied in elementary school and filled out when her parents separated and eventually divorced when she was in high school. She was angry at her grandma for dying, angry her pets left her, angry she only attracted assholes. She was angry she had no motivation of self-discipline, but she knew she wanted to change and be a better Shelley. This, most of all, is what made her angry the most. Her friends didn't know, they would never know if Shelley had anything to say about it. She wanted everyone to think she as fine, absolutely fine with herself. If she wasn't, who would be?
She felt that she had been away too long and didn't want her friends to notice she was gone and give her shit for leaving. She stood up, brushed the sand off her dress, and walked back to the bonfire pit surrounded by people in their late teens. She mentally sighed. "i would give anything," she thought, "just to get the hell out of here. Anything that would spice my life up a little, make it less redundant, less trivial. Anything."
Shelley wanted to break free from her life but didn't know how. She felt like she had nowhere to go in her current life, no important places to be or major people to meet. Everyone she met was all blurred into a mass of sameness. Same music taste with little but predictable and expected variety, same mores, same expectations, same ultimate destinations, same old shit repeating over and over like an assembly line.
Her friends were drinking beer and fruity drinks with a low alcoholic content. She scoffed inside to herself. Same college kid mentality repeated in a new generation. She felt antsy, like she wanted to go somewhere else, but she knew she had nowhere else better to go so she stayed put.
She noticed that a boy was looking at her. His name was Shawn something or other, and he was her friend's boyfriend's friend or something like that. He looked alright to Shelley. He had longish brown floppy hair, blue eyes, and lightly tanned skin. He had a nice smile and seemed like a nice guy. Maybe too nice. Shelley had the classic dilemma of preferring the bad boy type in theory, but when she wanted to really be with someone she wanted someone who wouldn't kick her to the curb and laugh about it to all his friends. It came with her preference for punk and hard rock in general. Most people looked shocked when she said she liked Dead Kennedys and The Sex Pistols and other punk bands. They thought she was too innocent, which was bullshit. She had been through more than they could even imagine in all her nineteen years.
Shawn was walking towards her. She mentally prepared herself for having a conversation with another human being. She always did this, in recent days anyway. She was in her head so much, daydreaming and fantasizing of her perfect world, that she forgot she was a part of a race of human beings. He was smiling as he sat next to her. "Hey. Shelley right?"
She responded slowly, "Right. And you're Shawn."
He nodded and smiled even more. "Right."
She sat there expectantly, waiting for him to say something else. He didn't, and she was bored, so she muttered, "I have to pee," and walked away. She didn't really have to pee, she was just bored as hell with prototypes. She took her green iPod out of her dress pocket, put the matching green headphones in, and played "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana. Shelley felt like blasting music and sitting in the sand somewhere away from her friends. She liked to watch the water rolling in with the tide, so she sat down in the sand right before it got wet. Shelley bopped her head to the beat and lost herself in the music. She got tired of sitting and then she laid down on her stomach and picked seashells out of the dry sand, sorting them by size.
After the Nirvana song ended, she was feeling angry and decided to listen to "When Ya Get Drafted" by Dead Kennedys. She was angry at her generation, she was angry at herself for being angry at her generation, but most of all she was just angry. Shelley had a well of anger inside her that began when she was bullied in elementary school and filled out when her parents separated and eventually divorced when she was in high school. She was angry at her grandma for dying, angry her pets left her, angry she only attracted assholes. She was angry she had no motivation of self-discipline, but she knew she wanted to change and be a better Shelley. This, most of all, is what made her angry the most. Her friends didn't know, they would never know if Shelley had anything to say about it. She wanted everyone to think she as fine, absolutely fine with herself. If she wasn't, who would be?
She felt that she had been away too long and didn't want her friends to notice she was gone and give her shit for leaving. She stood up, brushed the sand off her dress, and walked back to the bonfire pit surrounded by people in their late teens. She mentally sighed. "i would give anything," she thought, "just to get the hell out of here. Anything that would spice my life up a little, make it less redundant, less trivial. Anything."