Ryan's Secret
If You Love Him, Go After Him
I threw my pen knife at the wall, and it just went flying back to me, hitting me in the chest. Ryan, stop being a fucking douche, kay thanks. You've already bullshitted up your life too much. I let out a sigh and chucked it back at the opposite corner of my room and turned onto my front. I grabbed one of my wrists with my other hand, and lay my chin on that wrist on the top. Brendon. "If you love him, go after him." was the saying I knew all too well, and I tried to keep it as a motto of my life. Come on, no-one even knows if I'm gay or bi or straight. I really don't think they care anyway. Except Brendon. I love him and it'd probably ruin our friendship. I'd love to know if he was homophobic (Well, actually I wouldn't...) or if the "My friend wants to know..." type excuse would even work on him. Doubt it. My mother would go ballistic if I'd ever tell her, I bet you anything. Because people don't want homosexual children! Especially not my freaking mother.
I lay there for a good 5 minutes, probably more. I just did a lot of thinking so I wasn't bothered about time. Who would care about it anyway? Debating with yourself about homophobia? Thinking a lot about Brendon? No-one else would bother with that, and if they were, they wouldn't give two fucks about time. And after my thinking time, I ran out of my room and literally flew down the stairs...so why isn't mom telling me to be careful? Dad doesn't give a shit really, because I won't do the shit he wants me to do in life. Not everyone wants a fucking posh, snooty job, even if you can earn "LOADSA MONEY, RYAN!". A note. Why would mom bother giving me a note?
"Ryan, I've gone out to the shop. Your dad's gone somewhere stupid where I don't know. Take care love.
Mom xx"
Whatever. All I care about is that you're gone. Cause how would I get away with suicide anyway? No-one ever gives a fuck, no-one ever will. I'd live for Brendon and that's why I'm alive. Brendon. I'm just a friend to him, best friend at stretch.
I don't know what to choose. My pen knife or some pills. To be perfectly honest though, I'd leave pen knife for home and pills for school to overdose on them, yeah.
I lay there for a good 5 minutes, probably more. I just did a lot of thinking so I wasn't bothered about time. Who would care about it anyway? Debating with yourself about homophobia? Thinking a lot about Brendon? No-one else would bother with that, and if they were, they wouldn't give two fucks about time. And after my thinking time, I ran out of my room and literally flew down the stairs...so why isn't mom telling me to be careful? Dad doesn't give a shit really, because I won't do the shit he wants me to do in life. Not everyone wants a fucking posh, snooty job, even if you can earn "LOADSA MONEY, RYAN!". A note. Why would mom bother giving me a note?
"Ryan, I've gone out to the shop. Your dad's gone somewhere stupid where I don't know. Take care love.
Mom xx"
Whatever. All I care about is that you're gone. Cause how would I get away with suicide anyway? No-one ever gives a fuck, no-one ever will. I'd live for Brendon and that's why I'm alive. Brendon. I'm just a friend to him, best friend at stretch.
I don't know what to choose. My pen knife or some pills. To be perfectly honest though, I'd leave pen knife for home and pills for school to overdose on them, yeah.