I sit up and struggle with the fact how much must I do to get a coke from the machine in the hall.
1. Put my Converse on.
2. Grab my wallet or rather one coin, but that still requires my wallet, search of luggage and opening it, as the locks would be empty and sour.
3. Find the key, which I threw as I walked in, most likely behind the night table.
4. Open the door.
5. Greet or smile any recognizable face, but prevent conversations by my muting monster, called my iPod, perhaps give out a few nods, if the person actually deserves it or is notable in making myself invisible. But then invisible is such a not so nice word, because people see me, I just don’t want them to fiddle with me that much, now that my single thing is now like a black pearl, as everyone has someone to snog with.
6. Walk on.
7. Wait in the line for whatsoever reason that the machine is always at popular demand as if a normal teenage girl needs a coke, chips or anything else every second of her existence which is mostly to the never breaking the circle of life factor, I hope she’ll get mutated babies then.
8.Pray, yes, pray that I won’t bump into Graham.
9.Pray, that I won’t blush or take out a headphone to find out how deep his voice is.
10.Pray, that I won’t find myself in a pointless dialog to find that his taste in music is rubbish and when I’d mention that Exit Music changed my life he’d just say who.
11.Pray, that it won’t depress me.
12.Pray, knowing that it will, as in my head we have already been to three concerts with that song in the playlist.
13.Pray, that he won’t find my Jonny Greenwood worship weird.
14.Pray, even knowing that he will.
15. Pray, that he’d fuck Jonny Greenwood.
16.Pray, that he won’t find me amazingly weird and not modern.
167.Pray, that he won’t just shrug and walk away.
Basically, all I have to do is not bump into him, let even the line be huge that I’d have to sleep, curled up and stare as elephants would fly by, grinning at my stupidity and the rules I’ve made as magnets to hang above my head.
Everything was usual that I found no need to look all new wallpapers or new ceiling paint.
Everything was plain, dull and familiar to the bones. I had to wait as usual as a girl, whose name I couldn't remember stood choosing what flavor it should be today forgetting that she could just return in the next five minutes or sooner to grab another pack. I clearly wanted to remind her that but in the end all I did was just wait, muffling her thoughts aloud even when she turned to me, apologizing, earning a dumb nod and silence to understand the ‘noise’ coming from my headphones.
In the end I got my trophy and I went back to my room, slowly drinking my coke knowing who was waiting for me there on the window sill with black bangs covering his dark eyes and the possibility of a fake Graham leaning against a wall, his eyes scanning the context of the book I was currently reading to nod in disagreement in a more sincere way than Evan would.
In the end I opened to the door to see Jonny sitting, Graham leaning and Evan rambling where the hell was Marcie, my roomie, his face hinting the possibility of a break-up with his now two months girlfriend, which was rather long compared to his last ones which barely lasted a week. The stupidity just materializes in front of me and degrades me, as if it were an axe.
The stupidity irritates me, as he knows nothing, she knows nothing and she wants a bouquet because she’d seen it in the movies, she thinks sex is bad and she’d never give a blowjob, she’d laugh and be a fucking ice queen, throwing notes at him, as some friend would have to wait, maybe even Marcie as the girls would take over the world. I’d take a gun to kill and load it, as I’d kill the ones who actually connect their lives with them and those who they connect with, the world has enough filth already. I’m not the one to blame, I’m the one to hail for the decision and balls.
I kept to myself holding a dialog with Jonny in my head at the same time, as he gave out his point of view on idolization of the partner. Then I turned my head to Graham who shrugged off telling that Evan was a moron in some way, despite his friendly apearence, suck on the lollypop, sweetie, and debated with Jonny for a while, as I continued to agree with Evan seeing his depressed state, but dropping several opposite sided comments in his direction. I tried to hint as faintly as possible for him to find somebody more worthy. Soon enough he thanked me and stood up. You’d be shot anyway.
I expected Marcie to come.
One hour left.
The hour passed quicker than expected as if my eyes were wide open as soon as my eyelashes brushed my skin in a known way. A known way I wanted Graham or Jonny to brush. I sat up quickly, still feeling dizzy from the gasp of sleep I just had. I stared at the door, as if I could see threw wood to see how the lock moved in a protesting way or how I saw Marcie, her curls held back by her sunglasses, guessing that she was on heels and tight designer clothes.
Soon enough the door sprang open as Marcie walked in, a big smile flashing on her tanned skin hinting where her cold winter break went. She grinned at me, dropping her luggage and throwing her arms around me, pulling me in a trademark Marcie-hug, which I had expected.
I dislike it when people hug me, I can feel them choke me, as they fiddle with my clothes as if I were a sex toy with a wide open mouth, I give blowjobs, ejeculate for me to know how bitter it shall be, when I shall swallow.
“Bo, sweetheart, how are you?” Before I could even respond I was already in a long tale about this hot guy who stalked her in a good way at the beach. She pulled her foot from her footwear, pushing her coat from the shoulders, dropping it at her desk, near her glasses. The tanned skinned girl fell on her bed on her back her eyes scanning the room for any hint of difference.
None.
Then she looked at me expecting one single word, even knowing that I disliked talking about myself asides from rare occasions. It was out third year together as roommates as we always had to talk the stuff into putting us together and they just shrugged, as everybody else already divided themselves into pairs anyway with the same technique we used.
No one could stand her, neither could I. I’d throw a paperbag on her and choke her, the hatred coming from inside, as Jonny would hold my hair.
“Good.” And fine was all she ever got, sometimes I’d ask about the time or the homework, but that was rare and Marcie would jump up, in hopes that I might actually start a conversation, but none were ever held. “Evan walked in, wanted to see you.”
I feel like a Goth kid, maybe I should be one or lie that I am, just for her to bog off.
They didn’t mind that I rarely opened. They didn’t mind that I dressed in the same tones and structure day after day, year after year. They didn’t mind if I wanted to switch the music they both listened to. Despite the first glances their taste in music wasn’t as bad as I had expected.
Both of them were sitting on Marcie’s bed, yelling at each other about some celebrity scandal they read in the yellow pages. They both turned their heads to greet me before to proceed on their yelling. Evan was on one side, while Marcie was on the other and for weeks they seemed to talk only about it for at least one hour each day.
“Hey, Roberta, you want to sit with us?” Evan asked all of a sudden, looking at Marcie who didn’t seem to say that aloud all though the question was on her lips waiting to be freed. I stared at them, nearly dropping my tray.
What did they want?
I raised my head, my bangs falling to the sides revealing my eyes. I stood there for a while thinking what to do. She was my roommate after all and I bet Evan was her soon to be dumped boyfriend even if I had never caught them red handed. I nodded, thanking them quietly, despite the fact that I wanted to go back to my lonely table, which now, thanks to them was taken by some gossip girls. So I had no other option anyway.
I expected them to begin to yell at each other on some other article mentioned in the yellow pages, but nothing came. Instead Marcie smiled at me as I raised my eyes at her and so did Evan as they studied me as if they saw me for the first time in their short life.
“I heard you listening to Head on the Door, you like The Cure?”
“Did you watch Velvet Goldmine? Remember the beginning when Molko’s running?”
“I prefer his solo, though.”
I stared at them answering to questions mechanically, a small bit of me not regretting my addiction to listen to music rather loud, on max, ignoring the stares and confused gazes. Soon enough I loosened around them and began discussing films, books and music which made my existence worth it.
Marcie’s music taste was different from mine, but there were several songs we both adored, as our best film was nearly identical. Evan ended up giving me a must read and must listen to list as we discussed bands I liked and he loved or the other way round. Even now he’d roll his eyes at our book and film choice.
I started sitting with them, sometimes muting them out, but apologizing beforehand. They’d smile and bring out their players too, joking that it was music Thursday, respecting my need for music. In the end I found myself yanking out my headphones and starting a topic myself feeling a need to rant on today’s lessons, the new film which I was dying to see or something completely and utterly random.
That made Marcie smile as she had somebody else to talk to. Sometimes Evan would excuse himself and sit with the girl he was dating or his sport team depending on what he was interested in at the current moment. Sometimes it was Marcie who excused herself trying to butt into some group her boyfriend was in. It usually ended with Marcie being the odd one out that in time she never chose her boyfriends instead of us.
She’d invite her boyfriend with some amazing determination as we’d discuss The Eraser or some random chick flick me and Marcie saw the day before. It was like some wicked way to erase the unworthy boyfriends, which sometimes even applied to Evan’s girlfriends.
I never dated anyone officially. I never found myself interested in my classmates and like Evan said ‘we know too much about each other to fall in love’. They asked me once if I actually liked someone. I shrugged it off, saying that I disliked nearly all guys aside from fictional ones, besides Evan who like said before I knew too much about.
The day I found out that they didn’t date was because I blurred it out, saying that they looked cute together. Evan admitted his love for Marcie, as he hugged her, still laughing as hard as Marcie did. I guess after that I found myself closer and I realized that they were in the new list I had made which included them both as people whom I loved dearly.
Today’s lunch was no exception despite the fact that Evan hesitated for a brief second about his girlfriend’s invitation but shrugged it off, comparing how long had he known us and that girl of his. We ended up laughing at each other’s holidays, mostly at Evan’s and Marcie’s and a small retell of mine in three sentences with a long description of the talk show I was forced to watch. Evan had to watch it too and a marathon of the show the next day as his parents quite enjoyed the host and were gluing his sons eyes to the screen.
We walked on, into the outside, as I tried not to look where I had seen Graham as if I’d see him still there. As if he’d wink at me, invite me to join him and talk about his own holidays. Evan followed my gaze to see a blank spot on the grass where my ideal guy had been previously. I searched around to see nothing asides a guy leaning against a tree, his fiery red hair swishing with the breeze in a sick to me poetic way. I stopped my gaze on him as he looked up with his teal eyes.
“I still think talk shows should be banned and the hosts should receive a death sentence.”Evan muttered, his hands deep in pockets as he shook his head, as if his black hair was still long. I decided that perhaps it wasn’t cut that long ago, resulting the usual swing still to be mechanic without any thinking. I glanced back at Evan my gaze running past several girls whose life meaning was to be the next queen bee.
It was weird how many new faces I saw that day, as if it was a new year and I had known none. But then I walked in between Evan and Marcie, which made me feel secure from the unknown faces surrounding me in the hallways and their chats, which I usually muffled by music or by looking at my footwear, but not now, whenever I was with them today, tomorrow or the past months and soon enough years.
Then I wanted to throw my arms around them, but I did it in my mind, as I didn’t want to do anything cheesy. I beamed at them, as they began discussing the latest gossip, which I now found myself reading as well. Just like Marcie began listening to music I and Evan liked. Just like Evan began torturing himself by watching romantic comedies with us, cursing that some Italian mafia should show up and shoot the main characters before their lovers, parents, children and aliens showed up to make the movie cheesier than it already was. But then seriously what could make movie cheesier?
“More cheese!” Evan would yell out in the middle causing both me and Marcie to elbow him at the same time from both sides.
But that is only in my mind.
I think I fell asleep, so I did.
---
Actually, the scene where Roberta imagines what should have been or what she wanted was the scene I had always disliked in Exit, but it would be the perfect dream which doesn't make sense at all, so I kept it without editing it, because it's meant to be in the stupid absurd way it is and should be.
I love how dynamic Roberta's hatred towards everything is. She should get a gun.
Chapter 5
1. Put my Converse on.
2. Grab my wallet or rather one coin, but that still requires my wallet, search of luggage and opening it, as the locks would be empty and sour.
3. Find the key, which I threw as I walked in, most likely behind the night table.
4. Open the door.
5. Greet or smile any recognizable face, but prevent conversations by my muting monster, called my iPod, perhaps give out a few nods, if the person actually deserves it or is notable in making myself invisible. But then invisible is such a not so nice word, because people see me, I just don’t want them to fiddle with me that much, now that my single thing is now like a black pearl, as everyone has someone to snog with.
6. Walk on.
7. Wait in the line for whatsoever reason that the machine is always at popular demand as if a normal teenage girl needs a coke, chips or anything else every second of her existence which is mostly to the never breaking the circle of life factor, I hope she’ll get mutated babies then.
8.Pray, yes, pray that I won’t bump into Graham.
9.Pray, that I won’t blush or take out a headphone to find out how deep his voice is.
10.Pray, that I won’t find myself in a pointless dialog to find that his taste in music is rubbish and when I’d mention that Exit Music changed my life he’d just say who.
11.Pray, that it won’t depress me.
12.Pray, knowing that it will, as in my head we have already been to three concerts with that song in the playlist.
13.Pray, that he won’t find my Jonny Greenwood worship weird.
14.Pray, even knowing that he will.
15. Pray, that he’d fuck Jonny Greenwood.
16.Pray, that he won’t find me amazingly weird and not modern.
167.Pray, that he won’t just shrug and walk away.
Basically, all I have to do is not bump into him, let even the line be huge that I’d have to sleep, curled up and stare as elephants would fly by, grinning at my stupidity and the rules I’ve made as magnets to hang above my head.
Everything was usual that I found no need to look all new wallpapers or new ceiling paint.
Everything was plain, dull and familiar to the bones. I had to wait as usual as a girl, whose name I couldn't remember stood choosing what flavor it should be today forgetting that she could just return in the next five minutes or sooner to grab another pack. I clearly wanted to remind her that but in the end all I did was just wait, muffling her thoughts aloud even when she turned to me, apologizing, earning a dumb nod and silence to understand the ‘noise’ coming from my headphones.
In the end I got my trophy and I went back to my room, slowly drinking my coke knowing who was waiting for me there on the window sill with black bangs covering his dark eyes and the possibility of a fake Graham leaning against a wall, his eyes scanning the context of the book I was currently reading to nod in disagreement in a more sincere way than Evan would.
In the end I opened to the door to see Jonny sitting, Graham leaning and Evan rambling where the hell was Marcie, my roomie, his face hinting the possibility of a break-up with his now two months girlfriend, which was rather long compared to his last ones which barely lasted a week. The stupidity just materializes in front of me and degrades me, as if it were an axe.
The stupidity irritates me, as he knows nothing, she knows nothing and she wants a bouquet because she’d seen it in the movies, she thinks sex is bad and she’d never give a blowjob, she’d laugh and be a fucking ice queen, throwing notes at him, as some friend would have to wait, maybe even Marcie as the girls would take over the world. I’d take a gun to kill and load it, as I’d kill the ones who actually connect their lives with them and those who they connect with, the world has enough filth already. I’m not the one to blame, I’m the one to hail for the decision and balls.
I kept to myself holding a dialog with Jonny in my head at the same time, as he gave out his point of view on idolization of the partner. Then I turned my head to Graham who shrugged off telling that Evan was a moron in some way, despite his friendly apearence, suck on the lollypop, sweetie, and debated with Jonny for a while, as I continued to agree with Evan seeing his depressed state, but dropping several opposite sided comments in his direction. I tried to hint as faintly as possible for him to find somebody more worthy. Soon enough he thanked me and stood up. You’d be shot anyway.
I expected Marcie to come.
One hour left.
The hour passed quicker than expected as if my eyes were wide open as soon as my eyelashes brushed my skin in a known way. A known way I wanted Graham or Jonny to brush. I sat up quickly, still feeling dizzy from the gasp of sleep I just had. I stared at the door, as if I could see threw wood to see how the lock moved in a protesting way or how I saw Marcie, her curls held back by her sunglasses, guessing that she was on heels and tight designer clothes.
Soon enough the door sprang open as Marcie walked in, a big smile flashing on her tanned skin hinting where her cold winter break went. She grinned at me, dropping her luggage and throwing her arms around me, pulling me in a trademark Marcie-hug, which I had expected.
I dislike it when people hug me, I can feel them choke me, as they fiddle with my clothes as if I were a sex toy with a wide open mouth, I give blowjobs, ejeculate for me to know how bitter it shall be, when I shall swallow.
“Bo, sweetheart, how are you?” Before I could even respond I was already in a long tale about this hot guy who stalked her in a good way at the beach. She pulled her foot from her footwear, pushing her coat from the shoulders, dropping it at her desk, near her glasses. The tanned skinned girl fell on her bed on her back her eyes scanning the room for any hint of difference.
None.
Then she looked at me expecting one single word, even knowing that I disliked talking about myself asides from rare occasions. It was out third year together as roommates as we always had to talk the stuff into putting us together and they just shrugged, as everybody else already divided themselves into pairs anyway with the same technique we used.
No one could stand her, neither could I. I’d throw a paperbag on her and choke her, the hatred coming from inside, as Jonny would hold my hair.
“Good.” And fine was all she ever got, sometimes I’d ask about the time or the homework, but that was rare and Marcie would jump up, in hopes that I might actually start a conversation, but none were ever held. “Evan walked in, wanted to see you.”
I feel like a Goth kid, maybe I should be one or lie that I am, just for her to bog off.
They didn’t mind that I rarely opened. They didn’t mind that I dressed in the same tones and structure day after day, year after year. They didn’t mind if I wanted to switch the music they both listened to. Despite the first glances their taste in music wasn’t as bad as I had expected.
Both of them were sitting on Marcie’s bed, yelling at each other about some celebrity scandal they read in the yellow pages. They both turned their heads to greet me before to proceed on their yelling. Evan was on one side, while Marcie was on the other and for weeks they seemed to talk only about it for at least one hour each day.
“Hey, Roberta, you want to sit with us?” Evan asked all of a sudden, looking at Marcie who didn’t seem to say that aloud all though the question was on her lips waiting to be freed. I stared at them, nearly dropping my tray.
What did they want?
I raised my head, my bangs falling to the sides revealing my eyes. I stood there for a while thinking what to do. She was my roommate after all and I bet Evan was her soon to be dumped boyfriend even if I had never caught them red handed. I nodded, thanking them quietly, despite the fact that I wanted to go back to my lonely table, which now, thanks to them was taken by some gossip girls. So I had no other option anyway.
I expected them to begin to yell at each other on some other article mentioned in the yellow pages, but nothing came. Instead Marcie smiled at me as I raised my eyes at her and so did Evan as they studied me as if they saw me for the first time in their short life.
“I heard you listening to Head on the Door, you like The Cure?”
“Did you watch Velvet Goldmine? Remember the beginning when Molko’s running?”
“I prefer his solo, though.”
I stared at them answering to questions mechanically, a small bit of me not regretting my addiction to listen to music rather loud, on max, ignoring the stares and confused gazes. Soon enough I loosened around them and began discussing films, books and music which made my existence worth it.
Marcie’s music taste was different from mine, but there were several songs we both adored, as our best film was nearly identical. Evan ended up giving me a must read and must listen to list as we discussed bands I liked and he loved or the other way round. Even now he’d roll his eyes at our book and film choice.
I started sitting with them, sometimes muting them out, but apologizing beforehand. They’d smile and bring out their players too, joking that it was music Thursday, respecting my need for music. In the end I found myself yanking out my headphones and starting a topic myself feeling a need to rant on today’s lessons, the new film which I was dying to see or something completely and utterly random.
That made Marcie smile as she had somebody else to talk to. Sometimes Evan would excuse himself and sit with the girl he was dating or his sport team depending on what he was interested in at the current moment. Sometimes it was Marcie who excused herself trying to butt into some group her boyfriend was in. It usually ended with Marcie being the odd one out that in time she never chose her boyfriends instead of us.
She’d invite her boyfriend with some amazing determination as we’d discuss The Eraser or some random chick flick me and Marcie saw the day before. It was like some wicked way to erase the unworthy boyfriends, which sometimes even applied to Evan’s girlfriends.
I never dated anyone officially. I never found myself interested in my classmates and like Evan said ‘we know too much about each other to fall in love’. They asked me once if I actually liked someone. I shrugged it off, saying that I disliked nearly all guys aside from fictional ones, besides Evan who like said before I knew too much about.
The day I found out that they didn’t date was because I blurred it out, saying that they looked cute together. Evan admitted his love for Marcie, as he hugged her, still laughing as hard as Marcie did. I guess after that I found myself closer and I realized that they were in the new list I had made which included them both as people whom I loved dearly.
Today’s lunch was no exception despite the fact that Evan hesitated for a brief second about his girlfriend’s invitation but shrugged it off, comparing how long had he known us and that girl of his. We ended up laughing at each other’s holidays, mostly at Evan’s and Marcie’s and a small retell of mine in three sentences with a long description of the talk show I was forced to watch. Evan had to watch it too and a marathon of the show the next day as his parents quite enjoyed the host and were gluing his sons eyes to the screen.
We walked on, into the outside, as I tried not to look where I had seen Graham as if I’d see him still there. As if he’d wink at me, invite me to join him and talk about his own holidays. Evan followed my gaze to see a blank spot on the grass where my ideal guy had been previously. I searched around to see nothing asides a guy leaning against a tree, his fiery red hair swishing with the breeze in a sick to me poetic way. I stopped my gaze on him as he looked up with his teal eyes.
“I still think talk shows should be banned and the hosts should receive a death sentence.”Evan muttered, his hands deep in pockets as he shook his head, as if his black hair was still long. I decided that perhaps it wasn’t cut that long ago, resulting the usual swing still to be mechanic without any thinking. I glanced back at Evan my gaze running past several girls whose life meaning was to be the next queen bee.
It was weird how many new faces I saw that day, as if it was a new year and I had known none. But then I walked in between Evan and Marcie, which made me feel secure from the unknown faces surrounding me in the hallways and their chats, which I usually muffled by music or by looking at my footwear, but not now, whenever I was with them today, tomorrow or the past months and soon enough years.
Then I wanted to throw my arms around them, but I did it in my mind, as I didn’t want to do anything cheesy. I beamed at them, as they began discussing the latest gossip, which I now found myself reading as well. Just like Marcie began listening to music I and Evan liked. Just like Evan began torturing himself by watching romantic comedies with us, cursing that some Italian mafia should show up and shoot the main characters before their lovers, parents, children and aliens showed up to make the movie cheesier than it already was. But then seriously what could make movie cheesier?
“More cheese!” Evan would yell out in the middle causing both me and Marcie to elbow him at the same time from both sides.
But that is only in my mind.
I think I fell asleep, so I did.
---
Actually, the scene where Roberta imagines what should have been or what she wanted was the scene I had always disliked in Exit, but it would be the perfect dream which doesn't make sense at all, so I kept it without editing it, because it's meant to be in the stupid absurd way it is and should be.
I love how dynamic Roberta's hatred towards everything is. She should get a gun.
Chapter 5
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