The Freak

Right My Wrongs

It was Monday now, I haven't gotten any sleep and I had three hours until class started. I laid in my bed, staring at the polish on  the wooden floor of my dorm, still crying. She left here yesterday morning at eleven forty-three and yet here I was the next day at six thirteen a.m. , still fucking crying.

After she left and throwing my phone into the closet to keep from calling her, the first two to three hours of my wailing was violent, I coughed until my throat ached, I sniffled until my nose burned and even stopped breathing long enough every now and then until I felt my warm blood run cold. Tossing and turning in my sheets, putting multiple pillows over my face to scream into, getting up and trashing my room until my body grew tired and I ended up back in bed.

The next seven hours were spent with my lip quivering, my nose runny and me calling out to her name as if she would come back but of course she didn't. Five hours after that, I had a regret stage, you know? Like maybe if I never talked to her, maybe if I never agreed and came here, maybe if I didn't say what I said to Doja. I tried to tell myself that I didn't really love Abra, it was just a phase but every time I got up and looked at myself in the mirror, my heart slowly died a little each time I repeated it, it made me look like exactly who she thought I was, just another lying ass nigga.

Five hours after that phase, I had a pity party. I listened to old music that was around way before my and my mom's time that talked about the love I no longer had in my life. I felt bad for myself, I was a guy who'd been raped at the age of seventeen by my own best friend and then that best friend came and ruined my life even more after she'd already done enough. I lost my girlfriend and now  I'd been crying for seventeen hours straight, non-stop. I was so sad then but now, I was telling myself to suck it up.

As another hour passed, making it now seven-forty-three, I slowly pep talked myself to get the fuck up. Dragging myself up out of my now damp bed, I told myself that I was a man now, I ain't live with my moms no more, I slept in my own bed, I fend for myself now. I could not keep letting this girl take control of my life, I do all I can not to fuck my life up and if I was going to fuck it up, I was going to do it myself.

Looking at myself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, I said I was the man. I was the man who was about to graduate film school earlier as valedictorian, I was the man who was done keeping myself concealed because it only pushed people away from me, I was the motherfucking man who was going to get his girlfriend back.

Showering, I blasted hype music and screamed the lyrics at the top of my lungs as I washed the tears from my body. Brushing my teeth, I rinsed and spit out the lies from my mouth, washing my face and wiping the last of my tears from it. I even walked around my dorm room naked to air dry just to feel better and it worked.

The blue Polo shirt, black bomber jacket, George Martin boxers, all black Air Force Ones and faded blue distressed jeans had me feeling more like myself again, so much that I almost felt bi-polar but I didn't have time to think I was crazy.

Grabbing my phone out of the closet along with my book bag, keys, ear buds, charger and camera, I headed out, plugging my ear buds in and calming my ego down as I walked out to my car. To my surprise, my car hadn't been keyed or damaged in anyway at all but there was a note in my windshield. I glanced around to see if anyone was watching me but I saw no one but campus patrol roaming the campus.

Praying to god it wasn't a ticket, I paused my music and threw my earbuds over my shoulder as I picked it up and out of my wipers. Unfolding it, I noticed the scent on it reminded me of the perfume Abra always wore so it had to be from her and to my luck, it was. Biting my lip, un locked my car door and got in, sitting down to brace myself for whatever the message was about to say: