My structure's compromised / But you still batter at all my fault lines (I'm safe I'm whole / I've got it under control)
Posted: Tue Oct 05, 2021 5:14 am
STAGE ONE:
ANGER
_________
Truth is, he’s spiraling. He’s not doing well. He’s never done well.
There was a time where he tried, really.
Nobody he cares about ever fucking listens.
He’s overreacting, he knew. He’s always overreacted. If someone tells him he’s a girl it makes him feel even less like a girl, to the point where he felt like a boy like he did now- how could he explain that? How could he justify it?
And maybe he should have a support system, but he’s smart enough to know that half of the people he knew are going to abandon him the moment he said anything that was out of the norm. And it’ll all collapse- this carefully balanced life he’s rebuilt for himself, where nothing was out of place except for himself.
That’s how it’ll always be. If he actually, like, joins the fuckign GSA or something like that some of his friends would probably lynch him. Everyone here seemed so free to express themselves- bright haired, loud voiced, and he desperately wanted to be a part of that. But he’ll just be the kid who exists to everyone but only a little bit, who wouldn’t touch beer at parties and made these stupid jokes, god, they must all hate him. They do, don’t they?
They all hate him, and they’ll look for any excuse to tell him that, finally, for-reals this time and not the silly vitriolic best buddy teasing that he never said made him so uncomfortable.
His name is Lorenzo and he wasn’t a girl and he wasn’t pieced together the way that everybody else was and they all hate him for it they all hate what he stood for and hate what he is and they hate everybody just like him, and he’ll have to go to prom with his mom’s old dress and what now? What’s going to happen after that? He barely has a future. He’s checking his school’s website at 3 am. He’s practiced his third little noose with that little ball of yarn that Jackson always used for his little art project. Lorenzo’s so proud of him. He hopes he’ll take the news well. He hopes he’ll never have the guts to confront these dark thoughts. He hopes it’ll all be alright. He hopes he won’t have to do something bullshit and dramatic like slitting his throat in the school bathroom or whatever people did in movies.
He wanted to be alive enough to appreciate being alive.
…
That’s never gonna happen, isn’t it?
…
The person that is sometimes but not always known as Lorenzo or Ren or whatever checked off personal finance as a preferred elective.
College apps are going to kill him. Kill them. It doesn’t matter. What was important was that they honestly hate the system right now.
For what they want to do to them.
To everyone just like them.
ANGER
_________
Truth is, he’s spiraling. He’s not doing well. He’s never done well.
There was a time where he tried, really.
Nobody he cares about ever fucking listens.
He’s overreacting, he knew. He’s always overreacted. If someone tells him he’s a girl it makes him feel even less like a girl, to the point where he felt like a boy like he did now- how could he explain that? How could he justify it?
And maybe he should have a support system, but he’s smart enough to know that half of the people he knew are going to abandon him the moment he said anything that was out of the norm. And it’ll all collapse- this carefully balanced life he’s rebuilt for himself, where nothing was out of place except for himself.
That’s how it’ll always be. If he actually, like, joins the fuckign GSA or something like that some of his friends would probably lynch him. Everyone here seemed so free to express themselves- bright haired, loud voiced, and he desperately wanted to be a part of that. But he’ll just be the kid who exists to everyone but only a little bit, who wouldn’t touch beer at parties and made these stupid jokes, god, they must all hate him. They do, don’t they?
They all hate him, and they’ll look for any excuse to tell him that, finally, for-reals this time and not the silly vitriolic best buddy teasing that he never said made him so uncomfortable.
His name is Lorenzo and he wasn’t a girl and he wasn’t pieced together the way that everybody else was and they all hate him for it they all hate what he stood for and hate what he is and they hate everybody just like him, and he’ll have to go to prom with his mom’s old dress and what now? What’s going to happen after that? He barely has a future. He’s checking his school’s website at 3 am. He’s practiced his third little noose with that little ball of yarn that Jackson always used for his little art project. Lorenzo’s so proud of him. He hopes he’ll take the news well. He hopes he’ll never have the guts to confront these dark thoughts. He hopes it’ll all be alright. He hopes he won’t have to do something bullshit and dramatic like slitting his throat in the school bathroom or whatever people did in movies.
He wanted to be alive enough to appreciate being alive.
…
That’s never gonna happen, isn’t it?
…
The person that is sometimes but not always known as Lorenzo or Ren or whatever checked off personal finance as a preferred elective.
College apps are going to kill him. Kill them. It doesn’t matter. What was important was that they honestly hate the system right now.
For what they want to do to them.
To everyone just like them.