Just a Freak

I called up Caleb the moment I got home and asked him, "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this dress?"

And Caleb said, "Well, wear it?"

"No."

I explained to him how I wanted to rid off it so Mom would never make me wear it again.

"It wasn't too bad a dress," he said. "I think you're making too big a deal out of it."

Too big a deal?

I told him he was lucky to have a penis.

I think having one would be pretty cool. I always wanted to write my name in the snow.

I asked Caleb if he ever did that.

He got all awkward and embarrassed (because he's Caleb) and said, "I dunno."

Which means he obviously has but won't admit it.

So far I've just been dangling it in Mikey's face, hoping he'll claw at it if I annoy him enough. But Mikey's too fat and lazy to do anything other than sleep and eat.

So I was just really waving it limply in front of his snoring little face.

Dad called for me.

But I was still on the phone with K.

And it's rude to interrupt people.

So I ignored him.

Mom was really depressed when we got home.

She said she wished she could find a nice man to marry.

Then she went off and ranted about Dad.

As per usual.

And Nana joined her.

One thing I remember about Nana is that she was always very curt towards Dad.

Also, her old house smelled weird and she had a statue of a penguin that I always wanted to steal. But I think one of my cousins has it now.

She always had butterscotch candy, too.

That was cool.

I feel like I'm getting soft.

I haven't moshed in a hallway in awhile.

It's crazy.

I hate being normal. It's not me.

Or is it?

Who am I?

Here I go, getting all deep again.

I hate thinking too much about shit like that.

It gets me depressed. It makes me think I'm worthless.

I try to block that out.

I guess that's why I do such weird stuff.

It's like a distraction.

But sometimes it just makes me feel worse.

And suddenly I'm thinking of K.

I'm thinking how he told me he's got a Mom and Dad and brother and sister.

And then there's him.

And he feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb, because there's a trophy case in their big ass living room and it's got his brother's football trohpies, and his sister's soccer trophies, and some of his Dad's old baseball trophies.

But K doesn't have any trophies.

He's never won anything.

He thinks that his family would be perfect, except for him.

All the needed was to replace K with a dog named Spot.

He said he's got so many problems compared to his siblings.

Like, they never had self esteem issues or anything. I think he mentioned something about a personality disorder, too, but I completely forgot the name of it.

I didn't really know what to say.

I felt bad he felt that way, but what am I gonna do?

He told me what he writes on his arms.

He says he writes on his arms when he gets angry at himself.

He writes all these awful things.

Like, if he fails a test he writes Idiot and Stupid and Failure on himself.

Or, when he starts beating himself up about being gay, he writes Freak and Pervert and Disgusting on his arms.

And listen to him saying that was just too real.

It was too real for me.

I couldn't listen.

Too real.

Too real.

"I gotta go, K, 'bye," I hung the phone up.

I felt sick.

I hated reality.

I hated it so much.

I just fell asleep on my bed and dreamt about Bobby.

Bobby.

Bobby isn't real.