I Don't Want To..

Vance..

TWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!

Vance is now 15, it's a new year but same simulation. He wishes he could do something else but can't, he can't physically put that much pressure on himself anymore. He goes to school, gets yelled at, detention or suspension. Then goes to the GrabNGo, plays pinball, wastes all his money on a game. It's not just a game though- It's something that is still in his heart to love.
It's the only distraction he has, the only motivation. Soon that would change though? He used to always hear that,
"someone will come and switch up your life real quick!" He never thought that'd happen, who would want to be with him?

Exactly-
Nobody. It was always "Oh you'll find a lovely girl who is willing to take her life for you!"
that shits stupid. Turns out it wasn't a girl he wanted, it was a boy. A specific boy he saw at the store. Black hair, baseball jersey, only two inches shorter, a wonderful smile, forest like eyes..
It was all the things-

he wanted.
He wanted someone to talk about him like that.
But no one ever will, not for the Curly head boy who wears a fucking choker. Not for the boy who used to starve himself in revenge just to get some angst from his parents. Not for the boy with scars all over his body for fights and other things. Not for the boy who's gay in the 70's. Not for the boy who got told "The abused becomes the abuser" since he was 3.
Not for the boy whose always asked
"What we're you wearing"
But especially not for the boy who wasn't even a real boy to begin with.

That's it, that's the worst thing he was thinking. Being outed to others, he hated the thought that he just wasn't born the man he is right now. It skinned him to his bones whenever he thought about it. He was the only one that he knew who was gay and trans. He isn't accepted by his family so why should others accept him?

Most of the time Vance was shit. The only time he'd ever be happy was beating his high score or the adrenaline rush while running away from the cops. Vance wore a thick, black leather bracelet on his left and another thick, brown leather bracelet on his right. He started wearing them because his dad gave it to him when he was young, he hated him afterwards but was never able to take them off because he'd get yelled at.
Now it was a different reason, the deep, yellow spotted, dents in his arms soon were only under the bracelet. Turning from white, red, yellow, purple, stitched from home and risen.

He only had 2escapes-
-music
-pinball
that's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

All of his fucked up life came from his so called mother and father. He didn't say those two words..ever, fathers are supposed to teach their son masculinity, combat, workouts, shooting a crossbow, hygiene, etc. Moms are supposed to help with work, with keeping cool with your hair, what girls like. They both needed something though- Stability. If they weren't such fuck ups they would be able to help, but because that would never happen.. what was the only thing Vance relied on when he was young? God. Vance Hopper believed in gods, all sorts of them. He prayed, begged, whined, sobbed, punched pillows every night while asking for help and one happy night where his household didn't smell like cigarettes, vodka, metallic taste of blood, burnt bread and old milk. He wished and hoped it wouldn't have the sound of blasting AC/DC, SWEET, OZZY OSBOURNE and all others to block out the dizziness of life, the sound of two failed parents who fucked at a young age, who partied every night, who never finished high school, who never gave a fuck about anybody but themselves.

At 4 Vance had been able to dress himself, shower himself, walk by himself and do everything himself. Including Crying to himself and committing 10 pills 3times a week.

At 5 He had already knew mostly every mental illness there was. He had access to everything since it was just him and the blacked out blonde girl on the torn up, wine stained, blood spotted, knife scratched carpet with 70 different types of alcohol and cigarettes with her.

At 6 he stopped believing someone would save him. He stopped crying, he stopped shaking and screaming for help due to his mother now being the abuser..not his father.

7, he was completely numb. He went to school that year and rarely anyone made fun of him. That's when they got scared, the bags, puffiness, tearful eyes were gone. But the same bruises, same soul, same thought process, same su1c1dal and mental intelligence. No one knew that though, nobody knew he was the same person.

8-12 he started with the scars. No matter what it was making it- burning, raz0r, glass, nails etc..the same reaction came. The rush to clean up every dark spot on the floor, arm, thigh, chest and stomach. He did everything to fuck up his body in a way to get rid of thoughts.

13-present day, there's no reaction to anything dealt with physical pain. He did too many things all at once he put himself in a coma for a month. Vance never felt the same afterwards. He felt as if nothing at all was real, dissociation it was called.
When you feel as if you're not real, the only thing that's real if your soul being put into some random persons body. Still having everything of yourself but not physically. He felt as if the only thing that was actually processed was his mind.
'Vance isn't real and never will be'
He repeated every night. Waiting for this feeling to be permanent.