Mr. Superficial (BWWM)

Chapter 39

It's been over a year since we first began the journey with this book. I started sometime after my birthday in November and remember my goal being 5K before Christmas. Thank you guys for being patient, honest and diligent readers. It makes the writing process that much more special.

Happy one year anniversary, Mr. Superficial.

Paise's P.O.V

Wash the dishes, check. Clean up the living room, check. Vacuum the carpets, check.

I scan my eyes across the limited space, eliminating the chores I've completed thus far. I'm proud of myself. The house actually looks as if it's inhabited by humans instead of wild animals.

Sure, there're unresolved issues such as the leaky tap and some cupboards still don't close properly, but apart from that the place looks good. A thorough sweep and mop tonight will do it extra justice, I figured.

I head for my room. The living area I found mundane after spending every waking moment when not studying, sleeping, eating or cleaning clinging to the tiny television screen. The shows were pretty average, apart from a hilarious cartoon show every then and again that had me still wiping tears long after the joke had died out.

I ignore the wild floorboards leading up to my cave of a room. It didn't look like a cave, but felt like one.

Dark and isolated.

Having tidied the place up first thing this morning, it was looking unusually normal. No clothes scattered across the floor, the sheets of my mattress firmly in place, normal. I walk past my wardrobe and sit on my bed, allowing myself to finally rest.

The rest lasted the best part of thirty seconds, until I found myself engulfed in a cloud of thought.

What now?

Ever since that party night that had just scraped it's week-long anniversary, I felt different. Not good different, not the opposite. Just different.

I wonder about the strange emptiness inside of me. It isn't an emptiness that can be grieved over, nor easily filled with false hope and misguided reassurance. I wonder where I got it from.

My immediate suspicion is Ashton. Did he cause it by betraying me for Marisa? The recurrence of the situation plays back in my mind. How? Why? I felt like a complete, utter idiot.

It's funny. I thought I actually mattered to someone in a way that wasn't friendly or sympathetic.

Or maybe the void was caused by making myself scarce from everyone else, including myself. I ignored the people at school. I faded out Ashton's sad, lingering gazes. Swerved his anticipated confrontations. Luckily there weren't any play rehearsals last week. Would've skipped them, too.

I was Paise, and I didn't exist.

Well, at least for last week. I avoided Landon like he was a serial killer, preying on his newest target. Why? I needed to escape to a world of solitude in a series of overwhelmingly integrated events. When you laugh, the world laughs with you. But when you cry, you cry alone. You run a race, or a marathon quite frankly. It's called the Human Race, and you can never win. The cheats often beat you. In a game where the only rule is there are no rules, of course you're bound to lose. Lovers against lovers, friends turning against friends. It's a vain, wild race. But a very real one, too.

I breathe in deeply, confused as to why my mind has changed in such a short time frame. I would of never engaged myself into this sort of deep thinking, but stuff happens. People change, for better or for worse. It's about acceptance or denial, with both options leading to either success and prosperity or ruin.