Messed Up Vita

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When I got home, I tried not to cry. I wasn't proud of it. I wanted to, yet I didn't want to . . . I just felt like crying would help me calm down or something. But crying was a sign of weakness. Growing up with best friends as guys, I knew that as one of the top rules. Never cry over anything. I didn't even cry when I broke two fingers on both hands after I fell of a log in the forest behind Jayden's house, trying to balance on it. I fell straight onto the rocks below, but I didn't cry.

   The only time I cried is when my pet dog died five years ago, at age eleven, two days after my birthday. He dog pneumonia after he ran away in an autumn night, when it dropped twenty degrees in the night. I cried for three hours, and let absolutely nobody touched me. If I recall corectly, I think I kicked Jayden in the face.

   I sit in my room with my face buried in my pillow, trying to stop the gulping breaths. Man, I hated when I almost cry. It's utterly the worst thing ever. My throat closes, my eyes blind me with tears, and according to my mom, my eyes portray the saddest thing ever. She says when I cried as a kid, she nearly cried herself, even if it was over something silly. I never really understood what she meant by the saddest thing ever. How could eyes be sad?

   My phone buzzes in my pocket. The one thing my Dad forgot to take away. I take it out slowly and peer at its screen, hoping a text from Joey. I'd messaged him, but he hasn't replied yet. It was still school time, anyways. He couldn't message me without getting in trouble.

   My hopes crash when I see the text's from Mason. I quickly peer at it, reading it up and down without a sideways glance. I suddenly stop, and reread the last seven words over and over.

   "I dont think we should be tgether."

   My heart drops to the Underworld, and my chest fills with water, weighing me down towards my heart. I swallow a big gulp of air, trying to wipe away the nausea. Why I didn't expect this, I have no idea. Why I was such a big, fat, idiot, I have no idea.

   I reply with a simple, "Okay."

   "That's it?" he messages back almost immidiately.

   "What else should I say?" I write back. "Actually, I have one more."

   "Wat?"

   I pause, but then angrily type back, "I never loved you."

   I turn my phone off and hurl it across the room in a fit of fury and bitterness. Amazingly, it doesn't break or crack. It falls to the carpet in a failed attempt of a throw. I don't know where it lands, due to I that I bury my head in my pillow once more. This time I can't control the racks of sobs that flood throughout me. They shake my shoulders and clog my throat worse than a bunch of tissues rammed down my asophogas.

   I hate all of this.

   Joey finally texts me, but I hardly have the strength to reply.

   "Can you still come?"

   "No." I don't feel like sneaking out again. I just want to stay in my room and let the sadness take over. I honestly don't care who hears me cry, or what I look like. I want to drown in my sea of bankets.

   He doesn't reply back, which only makes the dolefulness and sorrow worse. I've let him down. Now I've lost my two best friends that I've had only for a short week and a half. I wouldn't be surprsied if Mandy, my only female friend, hated me, too. I've kind of avoided her without meaning to. As I've stated before, I'm not a friend who keeps up with you every moment of the day.

   So I stay in my sea of sheets and pillows, wishing that the world would be this comfortable. I'm hungry, but I know I can't show my face in the kitchen. Not like this, with my face splotched with crying and sniffles invading my nose every three seconds.