Light up the Sky

P.E was awful, we played dodge ball. Probably one of the worst games ever invented. Seriously, why would they design such a violent game for teenagers to play? Of course, I got pummelled. Balls flew at me from all directions and I got flattened – I was surprised that all of my fat couldn’t protect me. Instead of bouncing all of the balls back off of my body it managed to make it feel like it was crushing all of the bones in my body – maybe it was the fact that all of the fat I held was so heavy that it actually was crushing my bones. My bones couldn’t even take my own body weight. I was disgusting.

I slipped my shirt on and walked out from the changing rooms and towards the field, it was first break, or maybe it was lunch. I didn’t really know but it didn’t matter either way – I wasn’t going to eat. I lay down on the grass behind the old janitors shed that no one ever went near. There were rumours that it was haunted, but those were just really stupid lies. It was clear that it wasn’t haunted, no ghost were around here – well, that may be because I don’t believe in ghosts. Once you’re dead, you’re dead – you don’t come back as a ghost or whatever. That was just stupid.

I closed my eyes and moved my beanie so that it was covering my eyes. I never liked sleeping in the light, which is why I had bought a black beanie a few months back instead of the grey one. The black one helped to block the sun out when I tried to sleep during school breaks.

The bell rang, waking me out of my uncomfortable sleep, and I groaned as I stood up. I really couldn’t be bothered with school right now and there was really no point of me being here. I could bunk and learn exactly the same amount as I do anyways – in other words, nothing.

I decided to do that and I walked out of the school gates, obviously trying to hide the fact that I was walking out of the school but it didn’t matter anyway. The register had already been taken so teachers knew that I was at school and I would be getting a letter home because of it. The amount of letters my parents had been given was crazy – and there would be another one today to add to the pile.

Wondering down the streets was pretty boring and I had no where to go – mom was probably still at home, maybe with a friend so that was out of the question. I didn’t need her telling me to get my ass back to school.

I grumbled to myself as I walked no where and listened to my stomach rumbling. The one thing I learnt in science – well, Biology to be precise – last year was that when your stomach is rumbling it’s called Borborygmi. And I only learnt that because my stomach growled and Mr. Petrie (kind of like Petri Dish… and my Biology teacher at the time) told me about it.

I was kicking the stones along the side walk when my stomach started growling louder and I had to push my hand into my stomach, into all of my fat, to hold it down. I was glad, now, that I wasn’t at school – if I was at my stomach started to ‘Borborygmi’ then all of the teachers would think that I was probably becoming anorexic! And that was the last thing I wanted; people forcing me to eat.

I wasn’t anorexic though, no – of course I wasn’t! I just chose not to eat, I didn’t deserve it and I was already too fat to eat. That’s not anorexic, and I certainly wasn’t whatever anorexic was. I wasn’t anything; I was just Michael James Way. Michael James Way the Freak – and that was all I will ever be.

I pulled my phone out of my jean pocket to check the time, reading that it was now twelve fifty-three. I had around two hours to kill before I could start walking home. That seems like forever, I have absolutely nothing to do and no friends to go and see. What the fuck was I supposed to do?

I ended up just sitting on a park bench and getting my book out to read; it was the only thing I could do. I was bored stiff and reading seemed to distract me from the real world. Whenever I read I managed to morph myself into the book, become a character and live their life for the time I was reading the certain book. It always managed to pass the time and most of the time the character had a better life than me anyway – so really, it made me happy for a little while of the day.

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Seven thirty-seven and I was once again, sitting in my room with my plate of food in front of me. Fish and chips. I tried my hardest not to gag at the thought of putting it into my mouth, chewing and then swallowing and once again I was stuffing it into a plastic bag that I would later sneak out to put in the trash can. Mom would kill me if I knew I wasn’t eating, and she’d probably skin me alive whilst shoving food down my throat.

Once I had finished scraping most of my food into the black bin bags that I had bought a few days back for times like these, I tied a knot in the top and shoved it under my bed. I would put it in the trash later. I decided that it was time for me to pay a visit to my other friend. The one out of two that consist of Gerard and Other.
This friend was small.
This friend was hard.
This friend was sharp.
This friend could make me sting.
This friend was a razor blade.

I know, it’s terribly cliché that I have a razor blade – but what else was I going to use, a knife? I don’t think so. I think mom and dad would suspect things if their knives went missing…