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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Dark · #2046027
All about a boy and his feelings and wantings of sharing his feelings He is searching....
Deadly Love
Chapter 1
June 20, 2015
It was 2015. The new era of technology and love and all different kinds of things. Money was the top priority of many people’s lives. But not me. 2015 was the start of a new me. It was on June 20 that I knew I wasn’t just a swimmer or a blonde, decent-looking guy with brain smarts and nice teeth. I knew who I need in life, I knew what I needed. I needed someone who could love me for me and nothing more and nothing less. I was what you got and what you were going to have. From this day forward I was going to change myself and to make sure that I didn’t waste my life away in the drama at school and with people who don’t care about you, because you need people to care. It’s what gets you through the day. In reality though….. people aren’t going to remember me in 100 years. They are going to ask Who was he? What did he do? Who cares. Every person lives and every person dies. You just got to make the best out of every day. Yes I am a swimmer. You know, one of those athletically built people with abs and lengthy arms and legs. The type of athlete that can hold their breathe for minutes at a time. Yea I have all those things, but they never make you feel full. Some people are never happy with themselves. You just have to express your ideas and beliefs.

Chapter 2
The dark glooms days. The days where you wake up and go a whole six hours straight of not saying a word to your self. Yea. That’s me. Nobody notices nobody cares. The world couldn’t care less and you know it. I hide it and shove it deep deep down inside. No one can see it and no one will ever see it. Stop complaining. Stop caring. Stop loving and stop being you. Those were the words I told my self-everyday for the past two years. I smoke and drink and put a smile on my face. People cant see the real me. They wont ever meet the real me. Ever. Its just better that way. My “friend” comes over and shes also athletic, skinny, abs, beautiful brown hair and eyes, soft skin, tan, and a perfect complexion and strong muscular legs and small tiny little hands. The kind of hands you can cover with just one hand. She’s probably my best friend. We haven’t seen each other in a couple weeks. Summer had just started and we had been consumed in sports and work. She shares all her stories and feelings. I just sit there listening to it all shoving my reactions deep into my soul not flinching a muscle. My smooth face smiling and laughing every once and a while. She says she loves me I say I love her, we watch a movie then she goes home. I go to sleep and that’s how it always goes with them. They want to share their feelings so they think someone cares. I on the other hand don’t share. I vape the problems away. Sweet tarts and mad energy makes my body tingle with sensation. The nicotine rushing through my body making me forget everything and anything that has hurt me and made me pathetic. It makes me stop the caring and stop the disappointment that I can feel upon my shoulders everyday. Yes of course I care about some people I would be a psychopath not to. I just don’t show it or tell it and that’s that. No body will ever know the true me.



Chapter 3
Friday, Saturday, Sunday. The days of a regular swim meet. All three of these consist of swimming, eating, drinking, and more emotional drama. I get up around 7:00am all three days. Eat the same breakfast go to the pool. Do the same warm-up. Swim the same races and listen to the same bullshit things. Today was different though. I swam a race and as usual went to cool down and when I get back I here a faint “There he is” and I can see my “friends” looking at me with their judging eyes and thinking “What a little bitch”. I talk to them and realize they read through my texts. My texts with a person who I shouldn’t be texting. She’s my old coach. She’s a drunk, cheater, and liar, but she’s a good coach for me right? She knows me and listens and cares about how I swim. A couple of years ago there was an incident with a couple people and two guys held down a girl and stuck his hand up the girls shirt and the parents almost sent the boys to jail. Those parents were my coach. Rachael. My friends hate her now because she almost sent their friends to jail. Rachael has had a hard year and she cheated on her husband and is a drunk. Now I know its inappropriate but we talk and when I say we talk I mean she shares her feelings and regrets and all her mistakes. Rachael is 40 and I am well 17. Yea I know its weird but we get each other. Now my friends read all the texts and now are screaming at me about how that its fucking weird and all this shit about how I should stop texting her and well I should but I am most defiantly not. The drama had turned and started to fight with me. This was a very normal day though to be honest because drama couldn’t win. Drama was like a toothpick and I am like a sky scrapper it takes two planes to take me down but 1 tiny hand to take the toothpick down. I just take in all the hate and the anger and all the bullshit and shove it into the deep fire burning in my soul. Lexi and Ashton talk to me about their relationships and how they miss and are still madly in love with her boyfriend. All I can think about is why I don’t have a girlfriend. Why can I get one? This feeling tears away little pieces of me. It makes me think that I am never going to be good enough for a girl. Am I took hyper, dark, fat, skinny, quite, awkward. What do I need to change? Why should I care? I try to block out the rest and continue listening to them. I nod my head every once in a while. But still the wanted to tear up and cry because I hurt bad inside with all the emotions tangled up begging to fly out of my mouth into peoples ears. All I wanted to do was smoke the feelings away with my vape. I needed it and I could handle all the emotional drama and I could barely shove all the feelings down, but I do. I drive home not saying one word. I move on go home and sleep.
© Copyright 2015 Zach K. R. (walkthemoon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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