To Feel Anything But This
RedXD
Max remembers when things were good. When he felt full. Instead of actually looking forward to the god forsaken camp that is Camp Campbell.
It was when he was a tiny tot thing. Fresh into the world, things were new and exciting. Even though he was an unplanned pregnancy, his parents were happy. He was their blossoming baby boy. They would take photos and go to the beach. They’d watch movies and get ice cream.
His mom used to sing him lullabies at bedtime. From folk songs to whatever she had heard recently, she’d sing him into a lulling sleep.
Dad used to pick him up by his armpits and move him around in the air like an airplane.
Sure, they had a small apartment, underpaying jobs, and not enough sleep, but they were happy.
He wasn’t angry, and they weren’t silent.
Then mom lost her job and dad started cheating. Mom started smoking while dad started sleeping out of the house. They both slowly stopped doing things.
Mom stopped singing. Her voice filling his dreams turned into silent records. She still tucked him in, for a while at least. Eventually, she stopped saying goodnight all together. Literally.
Instead of airplanes and flying through the air, Dad started turning to lifting him onto the couch beside him. Then to leaving him in his crib.
Both of their stares slowly dwindled and changed. He had known smiles and constant happiness. Now they didn’t even look at him. And if they did, it’d be full of distaste.
In school, he always felt out of place. So many kids would talk of their peppy, perfect families. Happy, nuclear families. Other children don’t understand much until they deal with it themselves. No one understood why nobody arrived on parent’s day for Max. Even the teachers didn’t care. They didn’t get paid to comfort him.
Over time he started getting in trouble.
‘Max, that’s not yours!’
‘Share with Beth!’
It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t like he was taught what to do and not do. His parents stopped giving a damn about what he did or didn’t know.
So he did what he wanted, living aimlessly and confused.
Why are all these other kid’s parents telling them not to do this stuff, but mine aren’t?
No one seemed to understand that he was doing his best, all things considered. How is someone supposed to do anything right, if they aren’t taught what that ‘right’ is.
Not to mention, the school systems were garbage. They expected parents to be the one’s to teach basic everything. From math to health, he was the only one who didn’t have a single clue.
He found interest in the chaos amidst classrooms, and no one ever told him: ‘Max, what you’re doing is considered trouble making.’ Why was he expected to know these things? He became a problem child to teachers.
