Status: this city
Self-damnation
He
People have been telling him he’s having a hard time, but he’s never been a good listener so it’s not like he pays attention anyway. Sure he’s a little haunted by the past, a tad suicidal, and his boss fired him for inappropriate behavior, but that’s normal. He’s been haunted since he was a kid, he tried to kill himself at least three different times in his thirteenth summer, and he’s never been able to hold a job longer than a week. So it’s normal.
“It’s not normal.” He hates that voice; hates it because its owner seems to be able to read his mind and that’s just fucking creepy.
“Nothings normal and you’re not okay.” He watches as she flags down a waitress, and remembers while he’s watching her that he hates that word – because that’s all he seems to do nowadays, watch and watch and watch because he seems to have forgotten how to talk and all he can do is watch.
It’s his first time in Hooters and he’s a little disappointed when their waitress comes because the woman he’s sitting across from and the woman standing with a notepad in her hand waiting to take their order are the same size. He wants to ogle and droll, but touching’s better and he knows that if he gets the woman across from him drunk enough or catches her in a good mood he could do a lot more than just touching.
In short, it’s a wasted trip, and by the time he’s come to that conclusion his companion has already ordered and is watching him – a raised eyebrow and pursed lips.
“You alive in there?” That’s a vague question because sure he’s breathing, walking, and living, but he doesn’t think he’s alive, but then again dead people can’t be haunted and he’s always been haunted. So he nods because he’s haunted and that means he’s alive.
There’s no answer to his nod, just the sound of rustling and then the flick of a litter. There’s a deep breath, and then smoke and silence. The waitress comes and goes – leaving a plate of hot wings and beer, but all remains still at the table. There’s laughter and drunken chatter around them – the sound of a slap being delivered fills the air and there’s angry chatter and talk of suing. But neither moves; one waiting and the other…also waiting – just a different kind of waiting; a bad kind of waiting because his eyes are the eyes of a man awaiting death, and the woman across from him doesn’t miss this.
“Your girlfriend killed herself after losing your child,” The woman broke first, manicured nails removing the cigarette from between her lips so she could speak clearer. “– drowning herself in your bathtub. You found her when you came home five hours later when you got home from work and went to take a dump. You buried her, and then went on like it was just any other day. You showered, you went to work, and you tried to strangle yourself with the cord attached to the keyboard of your work computer. The person in the cubical next to yours saved you after hearing the gasping and gags, you went home, and you repeated everything over the next day – the exact same way. You got fired for two more attempts of suicide while working, you’ve stopped eating, and you don’t talk anymore. I’ll believe you’re okay when you open your mouth and beg me for help. Until then…you’re not normal or okay. You’re crazy.”
The man just smiled because everything she had just said was normal – it was his normal. After everything had fallen away, and his loved ones were all gone the only thing he had left was pride, and his pride wouldn’t allow him to ask for help.
He had to fix himself
“It’s not normal.” He hates that voice; hates it because its owner seems to be able to read his mind and that’s just fucking creepy.
“Nothings normal and you’re not okay.” He watches as she flags down a waitress, and remembers while he’s watching her that he hates that word – because that’s all he seems to do nowadays, watch and watch and watch because he seems to have forgotten how to talk and all he can do is watch.
It’s his first time in Hooters and he’s a little disappointed when their waitress comes because the woman he’s sitting across from and the woman standing with a notepad in her hand waiting to take their order are the same size. He wants to ogle and droll, but touching’s better and he knows that if he gets the woman across from him drunk enough or catches her in a good mood he could do a lot more than just touching.
In short, it’s a wasted trip, and by the time he’s come to that conclusion his companion has already ordered and is watching him – a raised eyebrow and pursed lips.
“You alive in there?” That’s a vague question because sure he’s breathing, walking, and living, but he doesn’t think he’s alive, but then again dead people can’t be haunted and he’s always been haunted. So he nods because he’s haunted and that means he’s alive.
There’s no answer to his nod, just the sound of rustling and then the flick of a litter. There’s a deep breath, and then smoke and silence. The waitress comes and goes – leaving a plate of hot wings and beer, but all remains still at the table. There’s laughter and drunken chatter around them – the sound of a slap being delivered fills the air and there’s angry chatter and talk of suing. But neither moves; one waiting and the other…also waiting – just a different kind of waiting; a bad kind of waiting because his eyes are the eyes of a man awaiting death, and the woman across from him doesn’t miss this.
“Your girlfriend killed herself after losing your child,” The woman broke first, manicured nails removing the cigarette from between her lips so she could speak clearer. “– drowning herself in your bathtub. You found her when you came home five hours later when you got home from work and went to take a dump. You buried her, and then went on like it was just any other day. You showered, you went to work, and you tried to strangle yourself with the cord attached to the keyboard of your work computer. The person in the cubical next to yours saved you after hearing the gasping and gags, you went home, and you repeated everything over the next day – the exact same way. You got fired for two more attempts of suicide while working, you’ve stopped eating, and you don’t talk anymore. I’ll believe you’re okay when you open your mouth and beg me for help. Until then…you’re not normal or okay. You’re crazy.”
The man just smiled because everything she had just said was normal – it was his normal. After everything had fallen away, and his loved ones were all gone the only thing he had left was pride, and his pride wouldn’t allow him to ask for help.
He had to fix himself
♠ ♠ ♠
(=^.^=) Sorry if this is crazy crappy minasan ~