2Torn Out Pages in Life
And the, in one fell swoop, I plunged the weapon into her neck. With that little bit of leftover pizza that had gone stale after I had microwaved it, yet been unable to consume it, for which had now gone stale, becoming the stale-pizza-blade-of-death, but now a murder weapon.
(An hour or two earlier)
I sat at my desk, my cold, not exactly comfortable (and painted a pretty ugly colour in my opinion) desk. The seat was too low despite being as high as it can go, my laptop uncomfortably far way to my liking, yet needed to stay there so my heavy ass text books wouldn't stab me when I leant forward. The blue pin up board was still ugly, just like the kinda-yellow blinds, and I was still cold. My attempts to wear every single item of even vaguely warm clothing, the blankets and ridiculous beanie almost seemed to do nothing to help me... then again my preferred climate is roughly around 40 degrees. I looked at the clock, which was kinda pointless since I already knew what the time was, but none the less I checked the damn clock because I freaking said I did. Hm. Interesting. 1AM. Awesome. Moving on.
One thing that I think helped my soul not freeze over was the burning hatred I still had from earlier- ... well I guess it'd be yesterday afternoon now. I was so freaking annoyed I punched a hole into the next dimension, and as cool as that was I'm totally lying right now people can't do that shit when they're wrapped up like a burrito, AS AWESOME AS THAT WOULD BE. I'm stalling telling you what the actual thing that got me so mad was because seriously, that's way too easy. I don't even know who's reading this anymore, probably no one but if you still are then I applaud you for getting past my terrible sense of humour and still bothering to read this. Perhaps you want to know why I stabbed *mystery person* in the neck with the amazing blade forged from only the greatest dough and topped with the most delicious toppings. I might eventually get around to that, though to actually do so might need some explanation. I adjust a little to sit more comfortably, which involved legs on the desk, back where I was meant to be sitting on my chair and my laptop pulling a balancing act on my chest. It's comfortable shut up. I opened a new page on my blog- Hahaha I don't have one of them I'm too lame for that. I opened a word page and began... typing I guess. Not entirely sure why or what I was going to do with it, but I did it anyway because plot.
" I wish to begin with an apology. Please do not ask me why yet, but perhaps one day you can understand for yourself what meanings my actions truly conveyed to you. She was my friend, one of my close friends, and she hated me. She considered me her closest friend ever, I was special to her for reasons that were beyond my understanding. I treated her no different than my other friends, but none the less, I was like a diamond in a mound of ashes to her. One would normally be flattered to be seen as better than other friends, and initially I was, but had I known it would lead to my current situation, I would have taken the safe route and never spoken to her, for I would rather sacrifice all those pleasant times with her, than to have unleashed hell on the friends around us. It was painful for me to watch our closest friends become ensnared in the chaos of the storm that had been unleashed. But I digress. I was flattered to be her closest friend, and I honoured that, I swore to always be there for her, to comfort her in her time of need until she could stand firm and confident in herself, and she was overjoyed at this, promising to try her hardest to build her self-confidence. Though over the years, she did not. She became more dependent than ever, and now required hourly reassurance I did not despise her. This did not bother me as I understood she had anxiety and depression, which I could not blame her for. She held up the illusion that everything was perfectly fine, and the longer she did that, the worse she became. With my work load increasing and my own personal stress building, I was unable to comfort or even speak to her at times, and when I was free, I was drowning from her attempts to focus my attention on her. When I found out she was also receiving support from a number of other friends, I felt allowed to reconnect with other friends and even engage in new ones, since I had not done much else other than work and comfort her for the past few months. It is now 2 years later, I am exhausted, even slightly irritated. Not only was I constantly giving her support when I could for the past year and a half, but I had also drastically changed my sleep schedule because of her, night after a disagreement, the number of which were slowly increasing over the weeks, I would lay awake, unable to sleep, and analyse the argument, figure out ways to resolve the petty conflict and what had actually gone wrong. Many a time she simply assumes I hate her when I failed to reply to her messages, which, in truth, was normally due to my studies however I admit I have been ignoring some when I am simply not in the mood to explain why I cannot talk with her. I will inform her I am too busy to talk, but still be receiving messages from her half an hour later. I do feel guilty, though more importantly, I am fearful. She has informed me that recently, she has been so worried and scared that I despise her, and that that she actually feels like she's about to throw up. I do not need to be of a medical profession to declare that is frighteningly unhealthy."
And that's when I paused and reached for my drink. What was it? I'm not sure all that I know was that seconds later I was lying on the floor, laptop to the face. I would like to thank *some form of higher power* that my drink didn't go everywhere, because that would have been really bad. The hallways are dark man, and I don't know about you but there are one too many creepy pictures hanging about in the hallways to the common room, which I swear are haunted man. Oh... some of you might be confused. I'm a boarder. I'm one of those kids who REALLY DO LIVE AT SCHOOL. And I'm not gonna lie, some parts of it suck. The food, the restrictions, limited activities to do on the weekend... but then again I don't get out of bed until like 10 minutes before school starts and still make it there in time, which when I think about it is a pretty good deal. What's not a good deal is when the wifi f*cks up, it actually took them 2 weeks for them to sort it out. No kidding. ANYWAY I was doing somethi- oh yeah, why I stabbed a girl with stale pizza. For those of you guessing, yeah It was the attached girl. Hooray. You are the next CIA agents. Have a shiny sticker.
I get off the floor and... Wow... my bed looks so tempting... huh... I wonder if I... yeah. Yeah I do. I want to go to bed. I make a mental note to finish telling the story of the Pizza stabbing some other time. The beautiful land of sleeps and weird ass dreams awaits me.
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A/N: My friend dared me to make a stupid idea into a "story" of some form.
Yes, part of the idea is the weird way this is set out.
If this get's more than 10 reviews I lose a bet and need to do something embarrassing.