This Was Never Gonna Be Simple

I'm pretty sure Aled's getting real tired of my shit. Actually, that's not how I meant it, but now that I think of it, I can totally imagine him saying that. "Gettin' real tired of your shit, Ian". I'm going to try to get him to say this at some point. I might be trying for quite some time, but I'll manage it eventually. Maybe. He's probably regretting asking me to move in now. I don't blame him, I'm an annoying little shit. That's the fun part, though.

It's probably about time I made some more friends so I had even more people to pester. Having two friends, and having to live with them, too, gets a little boring after a while. Shame all the people in this town are unworthy of my time. Outta the way, peasants, superior human being coming through! Ha, remember when I was this insecure teenage boy, convinced that everyone was so much better than him, and that he'd never amount to anything? Yeah, I do, too. Good times.

I headed back upstairs once I'd thoroughly embarrassed Aled and made him wish I was never born. I didn't have much of a comeback once Shay'd had his say (ha, that rhymed) because unlike his boyfriend, he does, in fact, know what to do whenever I turn into the hilarious person I really am - or as Aled likes to put it, "the most annoying bloody thing that God ever put breath into". Joke's on him, I'm not religious. I'm not sure what that has to do with anything, but it sounded right.

I'll be honest here, it is still odd to me having my own room. For almost four whole years I was trapped in one room; one that I had no say in the decoration of. It was white, and white only. Here, however, Shay and Aled let me do whatever I want, well, within reason. Sometimes I feel like they're my parents, and I'm their rebellious teenage son. Their rebellious teenage son who is somehow older than them. Um... Magic?

I like my room here, though. It's painted a pale blue, in a shade that, for some reason, always manages to make me feel calm. Not that you could see the walls, though, they'd been plastered with posters of different bands I admired long ago. Some of them had been up for so long that I don't even remember putting them there. The rest of the room was reasonably simple. You had the usual bed in the middle of the room (I'd be quite shocked if there wasn't a bed, really. This is my bedroom, after all), and a wooden chest of drawers against the wall. On top of the drawers, there was what you'd probably mistake for an ancient CD player, which is exactly what it is.

I lifted a CD, and wandered over to the 'boombox' (that's what Aled calls it, I swear) to put it in. I never checked which album it was. I never do. If it's in my collection, it's something I like, anyway, so why spend ages choosing one? And yes, you guessed it right, now I'm just going to sit in my room, playing extremely loud, angry music until Shay comes up and tells me to turn it down a notch. We're like some odd, dysfunctional family. I'd hate to be a part of any other family, though.