This story has nothing to do with my life, or the life of anyone I know. It’s fictional. All comments and e-mails are appreciated [firstname.lastname@example.org]. I hope you enjoy reading it.
Nothing to lose
He's suffocating, the pain can be excruciating
And liberating, it helps him forget the worlds he's hating.
He's got nothing to lose
He's been beaten and he's been bruised..
He's got nothing to lose so he's always winning.
The colors were impossible to define. They were flashing through everything, changing constantly. I was falling down with an amazing speed, but it felt as if I was lying on a soft warm cloud at the same time. The wind blowing was calm and gentle, yet I knew I was going fast. I closed my eyes but I still saw everything. I reached up with my hands to touch the shapeless objects the colors made out, but didn't feel anything. I thought about standing up but stretched my legs and hands instead, completely calm. At the sides I could see my black hair dancing in the air. I watched the hyper colors and shapes as they hurried past me, making me feel high. I smiled.
Do.. -know.. -you..-er
The colors above me started to slow down and with that so did I. With confusion in my eyes, I was looking at the colors, turning my head left and right, my sad eyes pleading them to continue.
The colors became slower with every second as they kept turning shades darker.
No! I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Please.
One by one, I felt pictures shooting though my head.
»How dare you talk to me like that?«
»Such a good boy.«
»Don't fight it.«
Then all of the rotating colors came back, joining together into one small blurry ball, that was now a mix of grey, brown, and dark green colors. Suddenly, they all turned to black, and the ball shot through me. My green eyes turned black and my lips froze. I fell apart and turned to ash.
I looked up to see an older woman sitting in front of me, with a worried look on her face.
"Mr. Bristow, did you hear what I just said?"
Her voice. The same as always. The same as all of their voices. Their way of speaking. Their looks. Their fake smiles. Speaking carefully, afraid they might say the wrong thing and POW, the little freak will lose it. Look at him. He's a mess.
Sometimes, I can already simply assume what they're going to say, and most of the time, I get it right, too. After that, I can't help it, I start laughing. Laughing at their pathetic attempts at understanding. That, of course, only makes them stare and shake their heads more. Maniac.
It's simple, really. Everything. They send me to all possible kinds of doctors, who try to analyze every move I make, and nothing helps. They just really can't realize it's all in vain. All of it.
"Mr. Bristow? Why do you think you're here?"
I lift up my head to look at her again.
"I honestly don't know, m'am. My mother threw me out of the bed this morning and told me I need to see a shrink. I'm still in shock."
She cringed. "And I'm using sarcasm" I added, before she could say anything "because I'm afraid to show my real feelings, and deep down, I'm just a weak, poor little boy, seeking attention and love."
I glared at the clock on the wall. Two more minutes. We were done. I stood up and walked to the door. »Don't forget to write my mum a check for letting you stare at me for 30 minutes while I sleep.«
I spent the rest of the day getting high and looking at the ocean. I don't know if it was the sound of the waves and the smell of the sea, or the THC that always calmed me down. I've never tried either separately. But whichever it was, it was helping. All the problems in the world couldn't bring me down in the end. I'm a living proof that a person can indeed become a rock. An island. I couldn't imagine anything that could get to me now. I was an emotionless zombie and it was the best way to be. I didn't care, and no one else cared. My list of things to do everyday was the same. Getting up. Waiting for the day to end. Going back to bed. It was all I really had to do. Nothing else mattered. Simply surviving. Drifting through time, through life. The less you know, the better. And I didn't know joy. I didn't know love. A fish is born in a bowl of water. It does not know the great ocean. And so it does not long for it. As I didn't feel the need to love, to be loved. It was meaningless to me.
By the time I got home, it was dark, and my parents had already gone to bed. At least they left the door unlocked this time. I took my shoes off and went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. The smell of food in the air created an image in my head of my parents and my sister having their perfect family dinner. Then I felt like vomitting. Might have been the smell, or the image. I put the glass back, left the kitchen and slowly made my way up the stairs. The smell of Ashley's shampoo. The smell of fathers cigarettes. The door knob felt colder than usual. The whole room was cold. The window was opened. My body shuddered. I walked over the the window. The wind was making frightening sounds, playing with the trees, forcing them to dance, just to prove its power, to amuse itself. I closed the window. Stillness. Silence. I walked over to my bed and sat down. I took off my clothes. Stoned and sleepy, I still folded my dirty clothes, just like mum taught me to. Did I ever forget to do it? Will I ever forget the things she taught me, when I was still her son?
[lyrics by Against All Authority]