Every part of my day filled me with internal rage. Every time I stopped thinking, stopped doing something, my mind went haywire. It went to the angriest thing it could imagine. Within it, I was wielding a broad sword or a sledgehammer, or brandishing bare hands, but always, always, someone got their face knocked in.
My fucking roommate had locked me out of my room again. It was retarded. I had been, literally, twenty feet away, at most, but now I was locked out. I would say it was unfair, but I didn't want to whine like a bitch, I had experienced enough of that this morning, and throughout the rest of the day, and God, I was many things, and I was probably a hypocrite, but I fucking couldn't go there right now. I didn't have a winter jacket, I didn't have winter shoes. I was trapped. I was trapped in the last place I wanted to be. If my room was open I could have done one of two things which would have allowed me to calm down. 1) Play the Sims 2, alone, by myself, in the Coop or 2) Gone to sleep. Either way I wouldn't have to think anything. And that was fine by me. I didn't even have money, so I couldn't have gone to the Coop and bought things. The swimmers weren't having a party tonight, so I couldn't go there and hang out, get drunk.
I walked past Tina and Kayla. They were chilling by Sasso's room. Doing homework, maybe, but they were definitely existing, and that annoyed me. John said my name in that stupid way he always did. I didn't respond, vocally. I took my hand and hit at the hallway wall. It made a thick sound, and then my hand stung. I walked into Kayla's deserted room, locked the door, and laid on her bed, looking out at the quad. This was my fucking favorite view, but at that moment, nothing could calm me down. I could hear someone playing guitar, I could even discern what they were playing: Wolfmother. Next door Neil and his friend were talking, their TV was on. Tina's laptop was playing Bob Dylan. I hated Bob Dylan. And it wouldn't stop, why wouldn't it stop? I felt demented. Why was this so bothersome. I could lay down, close my eyes, cry. Then it would feel better. But I wasn't going to end it like that. That was stupid. I was done with the weaker emotions in my arsenal. I had spent the last two weeks feeling sorry for myself, and I wasn't going back.
I imagined myself on the snowy meadow, way beyond the school, where there were no lights. I was rolling, rocking back and forth, screaming myself deaf. And that was the only sound I could hear.
In comparison with the maelstrom of retarded ruckus I was realizing right now, that seemed like a fucking miracle.
But it was cold. And as above stated, I had no winter jacket, and no winter shoes. Fuck it.
I walked down to the first floor. I meandered to the cove. My hands kept making the claw, which they did whenever they got angry enough. That reminded me, I wanted to see that Vampire movie I had gotten in the mail. But it was in my fucking dorm room. I tried to control myself, and it worked for a while. Drew, Dareus, and Ben were all in the Cove, still. How could they just fucking waste their lives away talking about things that weren't even based in reality? Tina was down here, cutting her notes into flashcards. "I am so fucking angry" I announced. "I've been having the worst fucking day ever". That got their attention, somehow. "Why?" "What Happened?" Ben and Drew asked, respectively. "Ah, I don't even know, I'm so furious." Did they really want to know? It couldn't actually hurt.
Talking is therapeutic. I decided I'd work my way backwards, because I really didn't think I should start a story of my day with, "Kevin was a fucking cunt this morning, I fucking hate him. He's such a bitch." That would get the, as always, "Elora," as he rolled his eyes, Drew would say, "You can't talk like that about my other friends, it causes conflict", or something to that effect, to which I would've replied, "I don't fucking care. You can fucking handle it like a man. Stop being such a pussy".
I told them I was locked out of my room. Tina suggested I break in. She could use bobby pins. Dareus questioned her choice of tools, and pretty soon Drew was telling stupid stories.
"I think I'm going to sled down the hill behind the library" I said. That didn't work effectively well. No one was listening. I guess they really didn't want to know. I walked outside of the Cove, grabbed the red sled that was always chilling outside of Dan's door, unclaimed by all of East's inhabitants. Except for me, right now.
I came back to the Cove, and laid it down. I went back to my room to see if, by some sort of miracle, it was open. It was not. These are the kinds of things that make you want to kill yourself, I thought. I went back down to the Cove, and picked up the sled. "See you later", I said, but apparently not loud enough to drag them out of their conversation. I could die, I thought. I felt that way. I felt the way I did whenever I wanted to kill myself, if I remembered correctly-it had been some time. I felt really impulsive, like no amount of common sense could stop me from doing what I wanted to.
I walked out across the quad, bearing the sled in front of my face to protect it from the wind and snow. Rocket Man was playing in my head. I meandered through the sidewalk, if you could call it that. I really had no idea where the quad and sidewalk meshed because there was so much fucking snow. I could feel ice melting on my ankles. But for some reason, it didn't feel quite cold enough to reconsider.
I got to the first hill. I tried to slide down. I gave it a running start, but I sank into the snow. It flew up into my face, got under my shirt, onto my stomach, and it all melted. "Great, just great", but I laughed as I said it. I put the sled under my right arm when I got up. I felt like a surfer. I felt better at the thought. I jogged down the rest of the first hill, jumping high into the air to clear myself out of the drifts. At the road, I let a car pass, and I felt rather sketchy. I decided if it was someone I knew, or if anyone asked, I would tell them that, "There's nothing like sledding when you're drunk!", but they didn't ask.
The second hill was much steeper. I knew it would work. There was a tree though, and remembering the death of Sonny Bono, I reminded myself that if I was going towards the tree, I just needed to bail out of the way. I sat down and started down the hill, I gained speed. Instantly the sled angled toward the tree, and I knew it wasn't going to end well. I bailed, about twenty seconds to early, and rolled into the snow. The sled continued, albeit on a complete tangent, away from me. I picked myself up and ran quickly to catch it. I laughed, I really laughed, maniacally perhaps, as I bounded down the hill. The sled stopped somewhere in the parking lot, but everywhere was covered in snow. I missed a step, my foot came down, twisting, and my back scratched against the curb. My knee buckled wrong, and it winced.
Stupid snow, I mumbled. I wanted to continue, but I was freezing. The light of the library provided a second option. I tossed the sled back onto the hill, to avoid any traffic (unlikely, because of the time), and walked to the doors. It was late, and it was a Saturday night, I didn't think that the library would be open, but the doors were, in fact, unlocked. I was pleased. This was the first thing that had seemed to go right for me all day. But the second set of doors were locked. I was stuck in some kind of airlock, but I was content, because it was warm. The thermostat in the corner was set to 90.
It was quiet here, it was clean here, and that was all i really needed. There was a blank ceiling to stare at, and a bench to lie on. It was home, and the heater was the hum of the womb. The only sound still lingering was the breath moving in and out of my nose. I wish it would stop.
Either I was cold or I wanted to cry. There was something in my throat, and it wouldn't dislodge, no matter how many times I coughed. I think it was trying to choke me. I think it was doing a good job. Why couldn't this stop?! Why couldn't everything just stop? Why was there always something there? Why did I have to keep feeling things? Why did I exist in a world full of matter? I couldn't even stand to be within my skin anymore, I wanted it to stop!
When I was quiet, and if I focused hard enough, the voices talked to me, but I made them. They were angry, frightened, and usually male. I didn't know why. Why did I make them? I didn't know that either, but they came sometimes. If I was feeling that certain way. I laid down, closed my eyes, felt guilt and pleasure simultaneously. I heard Rocket Man playing in my ears, but I didn't know why. I felt alone. Because I was. It made me happy. But I still felt like crying. I fell asleep.
I hope the cleaning lady doesn't come back, because this is weird.
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