Status: Inactive until further notice.
Jesus of Suburbia
American Idiot
The sound of cars passing by started to fill the early grey morning, their headlights illuminating my room as my eyes slowly opened. I glanced at my walls, photographs of random moments taped up as my graffiti surrounded them. I sighed as a hangover started to settle into my head, a reminder of last night’s events flashed in my memory—all of them random segments that made no sense.
I placed my hands over my face, the heels of my palms pushing my eyes back into their sockets, trying to ease the hangover. It didn’t help. I threw the covers and sheets off my body making my way to my feet, glancing at the clock’s beaming red numbers: 3:45 am. I cursed under my breath, running my hands through my short hair. My hand reached over for the clock as I threw it across the room, its small square structure scattering as it slammed against the bedroom wall.
I grabbed my pants off the floor and slipped them on over my boxers, not bothering to button them up as I trudged to the kitchen to grab something to eat. The house was dark and cold; my mother’s figure passed out on the couch, a lit cigarette was held loosely between her middle and index fingers. I walked over to her and took the cigarette, placing it between my lips before making my over to the kitchen. The soft humming of the TV started to fill the early morning as I walked passed it.
My eyes looked at the screen, the infomercials were on. Diet plans, fashion, jewelry, and exercise equipment… the average person’s new mania. I grunted and shut off the television, people are stupid to believe the subliminal propaganda that’s thrown at them.
I opened the fridge door looking for something to eat, there’s nothing. I slam the door shut and make my way back my room, grabbing my shirt and sweatshirt. Soon after I finished, I grabbed my keys and wallet before making my way out the room.
My mother was awake, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She didn’t have to look at me to know I was up. “Where are you going?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I’m your mother… for God’s sakes, it’s nearly four in the morning, why are you up?
“Why does it even matter? I’m going out,”
“Jimmy, please go back to bed. It’s early, there’s thugs and gangs out there,” she stated, her voice worrisome.
“I don’t care, I’m going out.”
She sighed as she walked over to me. “Be careful Jimmy, don’t do anything stupid.”
I smirked as I looked at her, pity rising inside me. “You’re so fucking paranoid that sometimes you yourself become hysterical.”
I walked around her and out the front door, slamming it as I trudged to the beat up car. The car door squeaked opened as I got in; the car’s engine roaring to life.
I placed my hands over my face, the heels of my palms pushing my eyes back into their sockets, trying to ease the hangover. It didn’t help. I threw the covers and sheets off my body making my way to my feet, glancing at the clock’s beaming red numbers: 3:45 am. I cursed under my breath, running my hands through my short hair. My hand reached over for the clock as I threw it across the room, its small square structure scattering as it slammed against the bedroom wall.
I grabbed my pants off the floor and slipped them on over my boxers, not bothering to button them up as I trudged to the kitchen to grab something to eat. The house was dark and cold; my mother’s figure passed out on the couch, a lit cigarette was held loosely between her middle and index fingers. I walked over to her and took the cigarette, placing it between my lips before making my over to the kitchen. The soft humming of the TV started to fill the early morning as I walked passed it.
My eyes looked at the screen, the infomercials were on. Diet plans, fashion, jewelry, and exercise equipment… the average person’s new mania. I grunted and shut off the television, people are stupid to believe the subliminal propaganda that’s thrown at them.
I opened the fridge door looking for something to eat, there’s nothing. I slam the door shut and make my way back my room, grabbing my shirt and sweatshirt. Soon after I finished, I grabbed my keys and wallet before making my way out the room.
My mother was awake, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She didn’t have to look at me to know I was up. “Where are you going?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I’m your mother… for God’s sakes, it’s nearly four in the morning, why are you up?
“Why does it even matter? I’m going out,”
“Jimmy, please go back to bed. It’s early, there’s thugs and gangs out there,” she stated, her voice worrisome.
“I don’t care, I’m going out.”
She sighed as she walked over to me. “Be careful Jimmy, don’t do anything stupid.”
I smirked as I looked at her, pity rising inside me. “You’re so fucking paranoid that sometimes you yourself become hysterical.”
I walked around her and out the front door, slamming it as I trudged to the beat up car. The car door squeaked opened as I got in; the car’s engine roaring to life.
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Enjoy. :)--Billie