~as always no grammar. deal with it.~
Yesterday
i told the two people who i still consider my friends that we were not going to school that afternoon, we were skipping. as usual. we left at lunch and went to the supermarket near our highschool and i bought them some lunch.
i dont eat anymore- i am more skinny than the supermodels our society for some reason looks up to. i dont grow anymore either. i am fifteen but i am about as tall as an eleven or twelve year old. yesterday i ate no breakfast or lunch, and a few mouth-fulls of pasta. this wouldn’t hurt me as much if half the medications i am on weren’t melting my stomach out.
we ended up in the bog. there is a bog on the edge of my end of the city. it has always felt out of place, its a natural oasis in the middle of a chaotic polluted mass of existence.
i can relate.
if you hop on some fallen logs past the old rotten docks you can get to an abandoned dock that almost everyone has forgotten about. its beautiful there. the animals, bugs, birds, they all seem at peace as if they don’t realize that if they left their home they would enter a cloud of suburban death.
we lay on that dock for several hours without saying much. the best friends are not the ones who you love to talk with. the best friends are the ones that you are perfectly happy being with without saying anything.
as i lay there i thought about things. all i ever do is think. i think more than anyone i know ever will in there whole life.
i wondered why i have to live, but what angered me was that death is the only way around living. why does nothingness have to be the only other option when there is still a part of the world untouched by sadness? why cant i fly south or burrow in the mud? why do i have to get a job and have a family and deal with ridiculous social conventions every day when i could survive off everything in a half kilometer radius of me for as long as i wanted?
life is complicated and all we can do is make it worse. if people a thousand years could see us scheduling our lives and giving our newborns a template life from the moment they are born, what would they think?
they would laugh.
i don’t laugh anymore.
i dont smile.
i barely even live.
my life is an calm bubble of water in a whirling hell fire of chaos.
my life is a decaying dock in a pond being crushed and closed in by a world that has turned against it.