Thursday, May 12, 2011

Home

I woke up sometime when it was light, a ringing in my ears, snot stuffing my nose, and my eyes puffy and swollen. When I had my surroundings in check I realized I was still the the bakery, the power back on. I was on the floor, curled up in a ball from crying. I had cried myself to sleep in front of the entire town, in a freaking bakery...
I had come to the sad, depressing, life altering conclusion of my life. I was my parents in every way shape and form. Well, not form since I didn't look a thing like them. But the problem was, I did. I was just a big a cliche as them, just as stupid of a trend as them, just as made up and fake as them. I may not have been bottle blond and perfect, but I was bottle black and rebellious. I based my image off of what society told me was rebellious, and my parents based themselves off of what society told them was perfect. I was a looser, a bitch, a stereotype, a complete failure!!! I had gone so far left of them I came all the way back right! What was I doing with my life?!
I stood up and wobbled slightly, stiff from my rough night sleep on the floor. I popped my joints and stretched before I headed on home.
All the people I had been mean to, that pirate guy at the carnival. I was a spoiled brat, and he deserved to yell at me.
"I've earned my place here, lets see you do as much."
I hadn't earned my place, I had abused it, stomped on it, spat in its face.
I began taking out my piercings as I walked, my lips, my nose, my tongue, my eyebrow... They were all stupid cliches that were not even worth it. They hurt like hell to get them, hurt after, and looked god damn stupid. They landed on the ground with a clink, rolling into the gutter.
I was sorry I had kicked that clown off of his tricycle, he hadn't deserved that. Hey, he had found a job he loved, even if it was annoying to me... I was sorry I had yelled at the guy who had given me trash bags for a prize. He had saved me $5.80... I was sorry that robber had gotten squished by the ATM. That had to have hurt, even if he was a thief, didn't we all want money? He just had the balls to steal it. I was sorry I had yelled at the woman who was on the date with that clown. At least she had found love, which was something I would never find... Someone couldn't love you if you didn't love you, and I hated myself. I hated myself now more than I hated my parents.
My feet sloshed through puddles as I crossed the street to my apartment building. I remembered hearing the sound of the thunder in my dreams last night... I stopped and looked down at the water, seeing my reflection on its surface. Puddles lie, because I looked like I had a couple years ago. Blond, smiling, free of holes in my face.... I kicked at it and the me I knew and hated looked back at me. Blood dripped down into the puddle from my lip, I had pulled it out a little to hard...
"What do I do now?" I asked myself.
"You know, go back home." I told me.
"I don't want to, just because I realize I'm fake doesn't mean I want to be with them again."
"Yes you do, you want to go back home and be YOU. Not them, not Crimson, YOU."
I thought about what I had said before I realized I was talking to myself it a puddle. I left my slippers there in the puddle as I walked off, walking another 2 minutes before I came back to my apartment.
BANG!!!
A shot suddenly ran through the air. I jumped at the sound, slipping on the oily granite and falling into a large puddle, soaking myself. My eyes widened as I saw a man's head explode, and then a man walk off the building and crack his head open on the ground, and then another shot from the roof. I screamed and scrambled to get up, running into my building. This place was freaking crazy. I went up to my room and began to pack, knowing what I had to do.
When I was done got in my car that I had stolen from a junk yard and drove off, finally ready to be myself...

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