Status: On Suspended Hiatus
The Day All The Statues Came To Life
Chapter 1
There is something about looking up at the stars in the sky, that makes you realize how horribly insignificant you are. You look up into that inky blackness, and see only a tiny fraction of the universe, and you are reduced from a human being to an ant, a particle, an atom. Sometimes it hits you harder than others. Sometimes you can shake off the feeling, and other times you want to just sink into the grass and cry because it doesn’t even matter.
There is this theory about the universe that nothing exists except for you. That you, in fact, are God in some sense and that everything around you is created by your imagination. People, cities, rules, religion, feelings, all of it is some figment of your own mind that you use to entertain yourself. I really hope this isn’t true. Firstly, I don’t think I’m that creative, and second off, I really hope I’m not that much of a masochist. Think of all the pain I created for everyone around me, not to mention, myself. It’s sickening.
So, here I am, standing in Chrissy Johnson’s front lawn, smoking a cigarette, and feeling like the most insignificant thing on the planet. All around me are drunk kids giggling, stumbling around, and the lawn is littered with red plastic cups, wrappers from god knows what, and I don’t even hear them anymore. I feel so sick of it, so beyond all of this, so much older than everyone around me, and I don’t care that I probably look really weird right now, I don’t care that I’ve almost had a whole bottle of vodka and feeling that slight twinge of guilt and nausea that always stirs up inside me when I get drunk. All I care about is looking at the stars, and wishing that I could be anyone, anyone out there but me.
“Hey, baby” someone slurs into my ear, and arm thrown around my shoulders, almost dragging me down on my already unsteady feet. I don’t have to look to see who it is, but my head turns on its own accord, like a flower turns to the sun. I look at him a long moment. It’s James Witticar, and everything about him is perfect. I love him more than anything, but at the same time, I want to bash his head into the sidewalk.
“’Lo James.” I say dully. I can plan this like clockwork. Of course, Sarah and him just broke up, and so he comes to the one sad pathetic girl who he knows will do whatever he wants, whenever he wants: Me.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he says, his breath is warm on my neck. I don’t doubt that he has, but it’s for all the wrong reasons, and still the words send shivers down my spine, and cause a breakout of goose bumps that make me want to sink into the ground in shame. “Teagan, baby?” He says, when I don’t respond.
I take in the last drag of my cigarette and crush it under my foot. “Yes, James?” I say dully.
“Come on, don’t be like that.” James says, pouting. He takes my chin in his hand and pulls my lips to his.
“I’m not.” I say softly, but I am. Oh, I am. Pull away, pull away, pull away. But I can’t. I’m not that strong. Tonight he wants me, and therefore, I become good enough. I’m worthy of being human again. That was the power James had over me, and I hated it. And with a mixture of hate and love, I let him lead me upstairs, just like I will let him use me again and again, because someday, someday he will truly notice me, and then I can forgive him. But tonight, I can pretend that that someday is tonight as he holds me in his arms.
By sister, Beatrice, or Bex, as everyone calls her, is perfect in every way. She looks like me, but somehow, much prettier. I can’t for the life of me figure it out. We both have blonde hair, green eyes, same features, same clear complexions, thanks to our long lost mother, but when you put us side by side, there is no comparison. She is the prettier one. “Ew, what’s wrong with you?” She says wrinkling her nose. She is getting ready to go on a date with her perfect Quarterback Boyfriend. Together 4 Eva, and all that shit, and the sad thing is, it is totally going to happen. They are the couple that met in High School, have drama over their relationship once a month to keep it interesting, but will end up married and produce little clones just like them. In some way, those people make me sad. For them, High School is the best part of their life, and they live their whole life wishing they were back in those same halls.
“What do you mean what’s wrong with me?” I shoot back. I’m lying on the couch, smoking (it’s slowly becoming a habit, but more on that later), and reading something for my AP Literature class.
“Stop looking at me.” I roll my eyes and roll onto my back, looking at the cracked ceiling of our apartment. “And don’t get ashes on the fucking floor or dad will kill us.”
“Whatever.” I mutter, flicking more on the coffee table.
“Tea!” She yells.
“Calm the fuck down, Bex.” I scoff. I probably shouldn’t though. She has a point. My dear father, the drunk, who yells and hits us for being slobs when in fact, it’s his shit we are constantly cleaning up “I’ll pick it up.”
She purses her lips, and is quiet for a moment as she pats her hair into place. Then she turns around, a triumphant little smirk on her face. She has something on me, and she’s about to burst. Luckily, Bex was never one to know much about suspense. “Heard you and James were on last night.”
I scowl. “Shut the fuck up, Bex.” Of course, the whole school would know about James and me, but unlike Bex, they think I’m a dirty whore rather than a pathetic lovesick idiot.
“You are never going to learn are you?” She says, giving me a sad little smile. The sympathy is fake though, she is loving every minute of it, don't you dare doubt it.
“Shut up!” I bellow, sitting upright and throwing my book at her.
“Ow, you whore!” Bex screams, as the book hits her in the knee. I’m not the best thrower. But Bex is. She picks it up and throws it back me, the corner hitting me in the soft part near my eye. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry Tea!” She squeals as I yelp in pain.
“Whatever.” I snap, picking up my book, my pack of cigarettes, and my sweatshirt.
“Where are you going?” She says.
“I don’t know.” I don’t, and it’s a good feeling. I feel like getting lost. I wish I was Alice and could stumble down some rabbit hole where there was no rhyme or reason.
But I live in reality. And reality is a bitch.
There is this theory about the universe that nothing exists except for you. That you, in fact, are God in some sense and that everything around you is created by your imagination. People, cities, rules, religion, feelings, all of it is some figment of your own mind that you use to entertain yourself. I really hope this isn’t true. Firstly, I don’t think I’m that creative, and second off, I really hope I’m not that much of a masochist. Think of all the pain I created for everyone around me, not to mention, myself. It’s sickening.
So, here I am, standing in Chrissy Johnson’s front lawn, smoking a cigarette, and feeling like the most insignificant thing on the planet. All around me are drunk kids giggling, stumbling around, and the lawn is littered with red plastic cups, wrappers from god knows what, and I don’t even hear them anymore. I feel so sick of it, so beyond all of this, so much older than everyone around me, and I don’t care that I probably look really weird right now, I don’t care that I’ve almost had a whole bottle of vodka and feeling that slight twinge of guilt and nausea that always stirs up inside me when I get drunk. All I care about is looking at the stars, and wishing that I could be anyone, anyone out there but me.
“Hey, baby” someone slurs into my ear, and arm thrown around my shoulders, almost dragging me down on my already unsteady feet. I don’t have to look to see who it is, but my head turns on its own accord, like a flower turns to the sun. I look at him a long moment. It’s James Witticar, and everything about him is perfect. I love him more than anything, but at the same time, I want to bash his head into the sidewalk.
“’Lo James.” I say dully. I can plan this like clockwork. Of course, Sarah and him just broke up, and so he comes to the one sad pathetic girl who he knows will do whatever he wants, whenever he wants: Me.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he says, his breath is warm on my neck. I don’t doubt that he has, but it’s for all the wrong reasons, and still the words send shivers down my spine, and cause a breakout of goose bumps that make me want to sink into the ground in shame. “Teagan, baby?” He says, when I don’t respond.
I take in the last drag of my cigarette and crush it under my foot. “Yes, James?” I say dully.
“Come on, don’t be like that.” James says, pouting. He takes my chin in his hand and pulls my lips to his.
“I’m not.” I say softly, but I am. Oh, I am. Pull away, pull away, pull away. But I can’t. I’m not that strong. Tonight he wants me, and therefore, I become good enough. I’m worthy of being human again. That was the power James had over me, and I hated it. And with a mixture of hate and love, I let him lead me upstairs, just like I will let him use me again and again, because someday, someday he will truly notice me, and then I can forgive him. But tonight, I can pretend that that someday is tonight as he holds me in his arms.
By sister, Beatrice, or Bex, as everyone calls her, is perfect in every way. She looks like me, but somehow, much prettier. I can’t for the life of me figure it out. We both have blonde hair, green eyes, same features, same clear complexions, thanks to our long lost mother, but when you put us side by side, there is no comparison. She is the prettier one. “Ew, what’s wrong with you?” She says wrinkling her nose. She is getting ready to go on a date with her perfect Quarterback Boyfriend. Together 4 Eva, and all that shit, and the sad thing is, it is totally going to happen. They are the couple that met in High School, have drama over their relationship once a month to keep it interesting, but will end up married and produce little clones just like them. In some way, those people make me sad. For them, High School is the best part of their life, and they live their whole life wishing they were back in those same halls.
“What do you mean what’s wrong with me?” I shoot back. I’m lying on the couch, smoking (it’s slowly becoming a habit, but more on that later), and reading something for my AP Literature class.
“Stop looking at me.” I roll my eyes and roll onto my back, looking at the cracked ceiling of our apartment. “And don’t get ashes on the fucking floor or dad will kill us.”
“Whatever.” I mutter, flicking more on the coffee table.
“Tea!” She yells.
“Calm the fuck down, Bex.” I scoff. I probably shouldn’t though. She has a point. My dear father, the drunk, who yells and hits us for being slobs when in fact, it’s his shit we are constantly cleaning up “I’ll pick it up.”
She purses her lips, and is quiet for a moment as she pats her hair into place. Then she turns around, a triumphant little smirk on her face. She has something on me, and she’s about to burst. Luckily, Bex was never one to know much about suspense. “Heard you and James were on last night.”
I scowl. “Shut the fuck up, Bex.” Of course, the whole school would know about James and me, but unlike Bex, they think I’m a dirty whore rather than a pathetic lovesick idiot.
“You are never going to learn are you?” She says, giving me a sad little smile. The sympathy is fake though, she is loving every minute of it, don't you dare doubt it.
“Shut up!” I bellow, sitting upright and throwing my book at her.
“Ow, you whore!” Bex screams, as the book hits her in the knee. I’m not the best thrower. But Bex is. She picks it up and throws it back me, the corner hitting me in the soft part near my eye. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry Tea!” She squeals as I yelp in pain.
“Whatever.” I snap, picking up my book, my pack of cigarettes, and my sweatshirt.
“Where are you going?” She says.
“I don’t know.” I don’t, and it’s a good feeling. I feel like getting lost. I wish I was Alice and could stumble down some rabbit hole where there was no rhyme or reason.
But I live in reality. And reality is a bitch.