Status: Anus.
Pull Out My Insides
Asher Hugo Ramsay
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. What is wrong with me? I was in the hospital room, doing what I would do, making fun of the girl we all hate so much, but the whole time I just wanted to curl up by her side and wait until she wakes up. And there’s no way that I could tell Neva or Dylan because they hate her as much as I thought I did. Well, not really Dylan, he’s not as much hateful as resentful, and he’s loyal to his friends, so he hates who we hate, and likes who we like. But, if Neva knew how I feel about Zara and that I was the one to call the ambulance for her, my whole reputation would plummet and I would flush everything that I’ve worked for down the toilet. Everything for a girl. I wouldn’t mind if it were for Zara. What the hell, mind?! Are you just against me or something? Oh, great, now I’m talking to myself. What is this girl doing to me?
My thoughts leave my head as I get into my car and turn on some music to shorten the journey to Dylan’s house for his going away party. Didn’t I mention that he’s moving tomorrow? Probably not… My thoughts of Zara and Dylan leaving leave my head as one of my favorite songs comes on and I smirk, singing quietly to it. I might seem like the guy to like all of that pop and rap and shit, but really, I’m just an easygoing guy and I like a lot of types of music. And Beirut is definitely one of my favorites. As the last sounds of ‘The Gulag Orkestar’ leave the stereo, a song comes on that always makes me laugh. And that has to be ‘Daft Punk Is Playing At My House’ by LCD Soundsystem.
By the time that I pull up to Dylan’s house about half an hour later, ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ by The Verve is about halfway over and my bad mood is somewhat alleviated. I walk into Dylan’s house without knowing and make my way to where everyone’s hanging out with Dylan and shooting the shit. I don’t feel the need to knock, this place is like my second home anyway. It’s crazy how much this house used to be like a second home to me, and now it’s just an empty shell of so many memories. I sigh but I walk over to Dylan and give him a forced grin and a clap on the back. For the rest of the night, we all talk and sit around, having fun and reminiscing for the last time while Dylan’s here. As it starts to get really late, everyone starts to leave and I’m the last to leave, of course, seeing as I’m his best friend.
“So, you’re gonna have to update me on how the bet’s going, man,” he says with a mischievous grin and a twinkle in his eye.
I nod. “Of course, bro.”
“I’m gonna miss you, man,” he says quietly.
“I’m gonna miss you, too. You’re my bro. My best friend. God, it’s gonna be so horrible,” I say with a grin.
And with a few last goodbyes, I make my way through the door and to my car. I lock myself in my car for a few minutes, my head resting on the steering wheel. I still can’t believe that my best friend is moving away. With a deep sigh, I put the key in the ignition and blast my music, driving away quickly, but not before getting one last look at his house, silently saying goodbye to the place that I considered a home as much as Dylan did.
My thoughts leave my head as I get into my car and turn on some music to shorten the journey to Dylan’s house for his going away party. Didn’t I mention that he’s moving tomorrow? Probably not… My thoughts of Zara and Dylan leaving leave my head as one of my favorite songs comes on and I smirk, singing quietly to it. I might seem like the guy to like all of that pop and rap and shit, but really, I’m just an easygoing guy and I like a lot of types of music. And Beirut is definitely one of my favorites. As the last sounds of ‘The Gulag Orkestar’ leave the stereo, a song comes on that always makes me laugh. And that has to be ‘Daft Punk Is Playing At My House’ by LCD Soundsystem.
By the time that I pull up to Dylan’s house about half an hour later, ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ by The Verve is about halfway over and my bad mood is somewhat alleviated. I walk into Dylan’s house without knowing and make my way to where everyone’s hanging out with Dylan and shooting the shit. I don’t feel the need to knock, this place is like my second home anyway. It’s crazy how much this house used to be like a second home to me, and now it’s just an empty shell of so many memories. I sigh but I walk over to Dylan and give him a forced grin and a clap on the back. For the rest of the night, we all talk and sit around, having fun and reminiscing for the last time while Dylan’s here. As it starts to get really late, everyone starts to leave and I’m the last to leave, of course, seeing as I’m his best friend.
“So, you’re gonna have to update me on how the bet’s going, man,” he says with a mischievous grin and a twinkle in his eye.
I nod. “Of course, bro.”
“I’m gonna miss you, man,” he says quietly.
“I’m gonna miss you, too. You’re my bro. My best friend. God, it’s gonna be so horrible,” I say with a grin.
And with a few last goodbyes, I make my way through the door and to my car. I lock myself in my car for a few minutes, my head resting on the steering wheel. I still can’t believe that my best friend is moving away. With a deep sigh, I put the key in the ignition and blast my music, driving away quickly, but not before getting one last look at his house, silently saying goodbye to the place that I considered a home as much as Dylan did.