"Our lust for future comfort is the biggest thief of life."
Over thinking was my specialty. Now some people might applaud that, declaring that it's okay and that I was smart because smart people over think and question. Unfortunately for me, it was not the same thing. I'm pretty much psychotic and over thinking causes me anxiety and panic. Then again, what doesn't? Nevertheless, I am no genius. I'm not going to discover the cure for cancer, I will not invent the newest innovation, and you can rest assured that world hunger won't be a result from me. My greatest accomplishment is probably going to be living up to see my 40th birthday. An even greater goal of mine is live to 40 and be sane.
Our lust for future comfort is the biggest thief of life. I've thought about that quote every day since I've heard it. I'm not sure how to take it. It relates so much to my life and it makes me feel kind of sad. Actually, I'm not completely sure how it makes me feel; a heavy feeling with a tint of sad. It's crazy how things like this get to us, how a simple phrase could change you're life. What if though…what if it's the government? Sending us secret messages in little sentences to seriously mess us up? Oh, no. I've fallen victim to the-
"Tweeeek. You're not even-fuck-listening." Thomas complained, dramatically dropping his upper body onto the stained table. "I'm here trying to report to you this awesome-shit, cunt-story and you're here day dreaming. I will not-asshole-have it!" The chatter around us suddenly became noticeable and I remembered where I was. The sickening smell of cafeteria and people wafted all around me, causing me to scrunch my nose up.
"Nnrg, s-sorry, but I don't intend on listening to any more of your ridiculous g-gossip." I smiled and flicked his head. Here we were in the cafeteria sitting at the table talking through our disorders, while people who walked by gazed at us as though we were on the other side of some glass for show, speaking out own language. I suppose to them we kind of were, but I couldn't help but feel a bit affronted.
Peaking up at me, he gasped and displayed an offended look, "My tales of wonder-fuck-ridiculous?" He sat back up and shook his head disapprovingly, arm crossed," Tweek, you have insulted me in the-ass, cunt-greatest form. However, I bet you'd be all ears if you knew who I-dick, shit-was talking about."
"I don't care who y-you blab on about." I flicked him again and he swatted my hand away, smiling as though he held the greatest piece of information in the damned universe. "Okay, then. Here I-shit-was all excited to tell you all about news I scavenged so hard for, but-asshole, fuck-fine. I guess I'll stop looking for-shit-little stories about our beloved Craig."
The name itself caused me to tense up, blush profusely, yelp, and cover his mouth. Psh, and people say I can't multitask. "N-N-Not so loud, a-asshole!" I forced through clenched teeth. He licked my hand and as I snatched it back, shuddering, he laughed obnoxiously. I sat there and stared at that now germy hand of mine before wiping quickly against the roughness of my denim. Pip, who was now coming near the table, raised an eyebrow at Thomas, who was for reason still laughing.
"Oh dear, what's got him so worked up this time." His thick accent covering his words, like an apple dropped into a big bowl of caramel or something. I smiled at Pip and punch the shoulder on my left. "T-Thomas is just being dumb again." That comment alone was enough for him to glare up at me and flip his imaginary long hair.
"Tweek was just telling me-fuck, shit-how hot and hard Craig makes him."
The whole Thomas-Craig-Me situation was an odd one. Thomas just thought that I thought he was attractive, and he wasn't all wrong. He thought it was just a tiny crush on his looks. Apparently, Thomas has crushed on the blue giraffe long before I had. Or so he believes. I've always noticed Craig (it was hard not to, especially if he was a giraffe) since our fight back in elementary school. It was the first time I really noticed Craig back then. I remember lying awake at night in that hospital room, worried Craig was going to pounce on me after dark and beat my face to an unrecognizable. As days passed, we began talking about how shitty the food is and how irritating the doctors were and mocking the nurses. Finally on the sixth day of our new friendship, we explained our side of the fight and muttered our apologies. He declared Stan and his group assholes and I laughed as he cursed them.
We were finally allowed back in school, (Craig was let out first. They wanted to test my mental state. Again.) I would smile at him and he would wave or say "Hi" sometimes. I realized he was in one of my classes. Sometimes I helped him with his classwork and he would talk about whatever was on his mind. I was happy. I was really happy. I was so happy it was unnatural and I shouldn't have been so happy. I mean I only really talked to him in class, besides a couple 'Hey's in the halls. My heart had a smiley face just because I was friends with Craig. He would listen to my thoughts and philosophies and I would do the same for him. He didn't think me mad and I would be left glowing after a conversation with him.
"W-what's the w-word for when, nnrg, it feels inside your heart t-that everything in the world is all r-right?" I asked him on day, scribbling on a paper. I felt his lazy eyes on me and out of my peripheral vision I watch his eyes glaze over in thought.
"Um, happy?" he shrugged. I shook my head, blonde strands whipping violently.
"Nooo! I-It's much more t-than that!"
"Hm. Well, I'm not sure." he drawled out, "Mmm, let's call it Stripey. You're Stripey."
"Stripey?'
"Yeah, like my guinea pig. He makes me soo happy."
"Heh, okay! I'm so Stripey, Craig." I smiled widely, practically gleaming.
He just gave me a small smile and patted me on the back.
When I participated in their friend pageant, I didn't expect to win. I didn't really want to either, but when I did I was happy. I beat all the other people and was picked to be not just somebody's friend, but three somebody's friend. I forgave them. When I walked around school with them, I was happy because I finally had my clique and Stan was really nice to me.
One day, Cartman got into an argument with Craig and called us over to back him up. It was about some dumb comment about Red Racer and then Craig let out a weight remark. The fight ended after a couple Stripe and 'Your mom's a slut' insults, but not before Craig's eyes floated over to me, cowering and freaking out behind Kyle. I could read the confusion and dissatisfaction like a book.
As our gangs (Jesus Christ! I was in a gang! What would my mother say?!) dispersed, I couldn't help but feel low.
The point of the story (rambling) was that Thomas wasn't the only one who had fallen victim to the Craig Tucker curse, but he didn't really know. And poor Craig was in a love triangle he didn't even know of. But anyway, back to the present.
Pip blushes and let out a soft 'Oh my'. I roll my eyes at Thomas, "S-Shut up, asshole. Pip, w-what took you so long t-to get here?" Pip begins the story of how he ran into Damien and that explains the reason why he's sporting a new bruise on his arm. He's pulling it off well enough, drawing a small happy face on it. Way to look on the upside. For us that's the fashion, well less Thomas. You see, Thomas was more outspoken than us. Him being close friends with Kenny, Kyle, Stan, Bebe and some other students, he wasn't completely a goner.
He hangs out with us however because we've been friends since we met back when we were eight. Then Pip joined our little duo, turning it into a trio worthy of having a theme song we all wrote during a sleepover at Thomas's place. I knew Pip was in my class before my new friendship, but it wasn't until Thomas and I started sitting together in the back table at lunch that he asked to sit with us. We all had things in common. Short, blonde, pale, and outcasts. Puberty hit and Thomas grew to be 5'6, Pip became 5'7. And I, well I grew to a whopping 5'3 stature. Woo, another thing I ultimately succeeded in.
I sit back and listen as the conversation switched between topics. I nibble on my sandwich while watching Thomas's explosive hand gestures and melodramatic facial expressions. My thoughts drift off and for some reason, I'm wondering if my home is well stocked up on cinnamon buns, because if I have to drink another coffee without one, I'll shrivel up and die. Well, not really, but I've been drinking a lot of Affogato due to my lack of a sweet treat and I'm not a fan of Affogato. The bell rings and let out a small outburst that probably sounded like a stepped on monkey. I gather my things and give my friends a hasty goodbye. I like to make sure I am in no way late to class. I walk down the hallway, attempting to avoid crashing bodies and herds of people.
I make it to my seat right in the middle of the formation of chairs. Four chairs from the right, 3 from the back. Unpacking and organizing my things occupies me until the bell rings. Our teacher takes her position at the front of the class, when suddenly the door flings open and my hearts skips a beat. Or two. Not because the door hit the wall, but Craig and two friends are the one for such disruption. Okay, maybe because of the door too, but it's justified because the sound was loud and scary and shut up. She turns her stern eyes on them, "Spare me a reason to why you're late."
Clyde and Craig push Token up front and Token, being the diplomat that he is, clears his throat and smoothly explains why they were late. But as Token spoke about the janitor or something, my eyes were glued to Craig. Dearest Craig. His eyes glanced around the room, observing everything as though this area was new to him. Everything visible about him was long. His arms, his legs, his neck, his chest. I wonder if his lower regions were long as-
"GAH!" I spazzed out in my seat, causing eyes to move over to me as I squirm even more due to my sudden popularity. I could feel his eyes land on me and Token picks right up after raising a brow. Woo, go Tweek. shoos them to their seats, a warning look set in her features. Clyde gives a quiet celebratory holler and Craig highfives Token. His fingers are long. As our teacher begins informing us about a project, I force myself to rip my eyes from Craig and jot down everything she says.
"Oh, and this is a two man job. I'll be picking your partners."
Oh no. I hate partner projects. I do perfectly fine on my own, no need to add another person to blender up my life. "Bebe and Kyle. Annie and Kal…." I stop paying attention, only listening out for my name and Craig's. She goes down the list and I'm in the bottom four with Craig, Clyde, and Red being my other companions.
Wait, this is going to be like the movies, right? She'll pair me up with Craig and he'll come to my house. After getting to know each other, he finally realizes he loves me and declares his undying infatuation with me. He kisses me passionately, we get an A on the project, and everyone envies the relationship we have. Finally, luck is on my side. But, now that I think about it, I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to be the funny, quirky in a cute way Tweek. No, no ,no. I'm going to make a fool of myself! He won't love me! I will die alone with all my cats and knit sweaters and reminisce about the time I messed up my cha-
"Tweek and Clyde."
'AH! W-W-What?"
"Tweek, honey, you're working with Clyde. Are you okay with that?" She knows about my disorders, obviously. She always tries to make sure I'm okay with the situation and it's a kind thing of her to do, but what am I supposed to say? "Uh, yeah, Miss, can I have Craig because he's super good-looking and dashing and can really work the rebel persona?" Not happening.
"Y-Yeah, I'm f-fine. I'm s-sorry."
"It's alright, Tweek." The gentle smile she flashes me warms my heart enough to calm me down. I look over to my new partner. He grins widely at me and shoots me a quick wink. Oh boy.