in which a broken-hearted boy describes the after effect of losing love and friendship.
meet grayson, a boy whose mind works as fast as his heart beats, and loves as much as he can. this is the life of a boy who lost everything.
**completed**
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School was hell. There was no other way I could describe what I felt as the days dragged on; it was hell. I've loved school all my life. I used to love learning, and I used to love being real at school. But every day I walk through these doors, all I see are stares. Stares of sympathy and apathy. Stares of people who just need to gossip, and stares of those who just simply do not understand. But what bothers me the most, is the stares of the five people I once called my best friends.
It was only the third week of school, and I was already so done with all of it. The stares never bothered me before. These people never bothered me before. But now that I'm here and now that my best friend is dead and now that I no longer speak with anyone, the stares bother me. They infuriate me.
I needed these people to find something new to talk about because this was none of their business. It made me so angry because none of them knew. They didn't know how much we loved Olivia. They didn't know how we tore apart one by one, and they didn't know that I missed my best friends. But they wanted to. They wanted to know everything that they didn't know, but they never would.
These people; these gossip-thirsty, insensitive people, would never know how much we tore apart. They'd never know what happened to each of us the night that Olivia died. Hell, I didn't even know what happened to the others the night that Olivia died. I wanted to, and I guess they did too. They didn't deserve to know; the stares. The stares didn't deserve to know what happened after Olivia died or what happened to the best of friends.
I continued to pretend that none of this bothered me. I'd stay quiet and carry out a conversation only when I had to. I pretended I didn't miss Olivia. But I didn't pretend for me. I pretended for the others because we all knew that if one of us fell, we'd all fall. I think everyone knew that because none of us talked anymore. None of us looked at each other. But overall, none of us really broke. Because we all missed Olivia, and we couldn't stand it.
It was a Tuesday. I hated Tuesdays. All of us did. I walked through the doors, as I did every day. But every Tuesday, we kept our heads down. The six of us. I knew because I watched them. I watched Darryn and his boyfriend stand silently by their lockers with their heads down. Sometimes Darryn cried. Alex always cried. Alex was like me; he talked to no one either. He dragged his feet down the halls. His eyes were always bloodshot, his hair always a mess. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to ask about his summer and how the hell he was, but he didn't want me to. I visited his house one Tuesday over the summer because I was a wreck, and I knew he felt worse than I did. We talked for an hour. And after that, he asked me to never speak to him again.
"Alex.." I stammered, glancing around his room. I sighed. It was a sad sigh. His room looked terrible. Pictures of Olivia and the seven of us were thrown all over the floors, and it looked like he hadn't left his room in months. There was plates full of food, untouched, sitting on his nightstand. There were bottles of vodka littering his bed. It broke my heart.
