Stupid Little Blue Haired Boy (boyxboy)

TREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! :D

At this point in life, sleep is my favorite thing in the world.  It's the one time I don't have to remember anything or be anyone.

That's the same reason the shower was my favorite place.

When I sleep, reality doesn't hurt so badly.  Actually, it doesn't hurt at all.  In sleep, reality doesn't exist.  My dreams are a thing of the past, reliving and editing moments I've been through before.

Tonight is different.  Tonight, I play a new part.  

I'm with Justin on the beach, the same one in the picture on my door, but we have a guest.

Timmy is standing in the waves wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and cutoffs, frayed edges hanging just below his knees.  He splashes around in the water, kicking at the foamy spray and the sand around his ankles.  His blue hair is wet and matted into clumps.

"Come on!"  He giggles and waves at us.  

Justin shakes his head and tightens his grip around my waist.  "You go on, I'm happy here."

"What about you, Damian?" Timmy calls to me.  In the imagination of my brain, he's been informed of my name.

"No thanks."

Cracked lips find their way to mine.  A drawn out "aw" comes from the background before a soggy boy crashes into us.

"You two are adorable!"

"Where's Zachary, Timmy?" I ask.  "Is he coming?"

He looks down at his toes.  "Nah...he couldn't make it this time."

"Pity."  Justin smirks at me, clearly not finished with the task he began.  

"Just wait for it.  You can't miss him." Timmy's finger points up at the skyline until a flash of green breaks across the sky.  It's only there for a second, but it's enough for the smaller boy.  "He promised me forever."

I wake up tangled in the sheets.

Who the hell is Zachary?

The rain is still coming down, and a ghostly wind howls outside.  I press up against the wall, hoping to find the warmth that was once there.

A wall is no replacement for a teenage boy.

The red numbers glow three in the morning.  It's an ungodly hour, an hour filled with cigarettes and vodka making its way down your throat.  A dull desire burns in my lungs.  I haven't had a smoke in months.  I could use one, a long drag to relaxation on the safety of the enclosed porch out back.  I'd study the landscape and watch the drizzle drip my life away.

Most people cringe, but to me it sounds like heaven.

As a child, I'd always beg my parents to let me stay home on days like these.  I liked going outside and playing in the mud, a luxury not permitted by the public elementary school.  I'd get soaked from my chest down, and when I'd come inside there would always be a mug of hot chocolate waiting on the counter for me.  That was before my mother went to work, and came home too tired every night to do the little things for us anymore.

Laundry that always seemed to be clean started stacking up in the bin.  The ring around the toilet bowl reemerged.  Hot chocolate always came second to naps.

I sit and stare at the ceiling, watching the memories flash past my eyes.  They're all just a bunch of empty promises now.

Forever doesn't really mean forever.

It just means for a while.

I've got hours until school starts, but it seems to go by in a blink.  I've only just begun to reminisce when the alarm informs me it's time to get up and shower.

I'm only allowed to miss three days of school each week in order to stay out of the counseling office.  Through trial and error, I figured this ratio out, although it's not ideal.  They're not happy about it, but what are they going to do?  I'm the kid with a dead boyfriend.

I still get those pitying looks when our paths cross.

Then I get thrown in the dumpster to make up for any undeserved kindness I've received.  It's ironic really.  Everyone else just seems to find the need to equal things out for me.

The faggot's smiling?  Push him into the dirt.  The queer woke up on the right side of the bed?  Let's make his day the worst one out of the year.  The fairy likes the way his hair looks?  Dump a bottleful of water on his head and ruin all his hard work.

Who cares what he thinks, he's not a real person.  He likes boys; therefore he lacks emotions.

People are easy to read.

Most kids want two of things.  They either want to fit in or be left alone.  It's as simple as that.  Accept me, or just let me be.  I'm one of the latter kids.  And for some reason, that's exactly the last thing anybody want to do for me.  I'm that gay kid, so obviously I'm a good target.  

But what do gay kids really what?  Well who cares, it's not like anyone listens to us anyway.

We just want love.

We just want to hold hands in public without being abused or laughed at our mocked behind our backs. 

And we just want to be free to love whoever we choose.

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Well...i wasn't gonna upload this.

and it's pretty bad.

but i did.