I introduce my new story! I'm doing this new thing where I write five chapters to begin with, then upload a chapter, and for every chapter I write, I can upload another. So I have five chapters to upload periodically if I get struck with writer's block. Enjoy! I've put a lot of hard work in this thus far.
PS: This is for you, Shamara. One of my best friends and the main supporter of this story. She's heard me geek-out on how awesome my ideas were, she's been there through the writing process but never read a single word. I dedicate every single chapter to you because you were always there to encourage me to write more and never give up.
My update day is MONDAY, or whatever other day I feel like updating. So in essence, it will be random but I want to assign an official day to make myself more organized.
Disclaimer:
I don't own Degrassi, or Alibis by Marianas Trench
This is not the man I hoped to be, and I'm just trying to stop the bleeding. I don't know how the words go, I just started not to say no. Another day is gone, and all my faces are alibis.
Eli
I woke up feeling uncomfortable and sore. I squinted my eyes and immediately, my vision blurred. I tried to sit up but it seems my body was too stuff to move an inch. I was shirtless and only covered by a blanket over my waist.
Looking around, I saw empty beer bottles, and the smell of pot lingered in the air. I finally got the strength to sit up and my head pounded like I have been hit but the hangover truck full-force. Glancing to my left, I noticed I wasn't alone. There was a girl with straight black hair sleeping next to me. She was naked as well. It seems I got laid last night but I was too drunk for my mind to remember.
No matter how much I drink. No matter how much I smoke. No matter how much I rebel my own personal judgment; I feel no different. My goal is to feel more alive, and right now, all I'm feeling is a pounding migraine and an upset stomach. I'm not sure if the upset stomach is from alcohol consumption or that I'm sick of myself.
Being Eli Goldsworthy never had its satisfactions. Not since Julia died; my life came to a standstill at that moment, and I felt my heart break; I felt as dead as she did, lying bare on the concrete. I lost myself. My life has definitely never been the easiest; and I'm definitely no hero.
I slowly removed the covers from myself and went through the all-too familiar process of replacing all my clothes on my body without making noise. I had become so skilled at this that no one would know I left. I've gotten good at simply disappearing. I guess you could say I was sort of a schwa; I was so unnoticed that I could just skate through life without ever being accounted on for anything. But it was also quite depressing, because there were times where maybe, just maybe, I wanted to be noticed. But I just wasn't.
Walking outside, the cool August air hit my face. It was getting cold early in Toronto this year. The sudden change in temperature made my head pound more, but I ignored it. I was too used to walking alone. Even my own parents never cared enough about me; all I feel is false sincerity from everyone around me. It's quite sad when you can tell the difference between a person who cares and a person who just doesn't want to hear you complain about your life, but expect you to be at their beck and call. That's why I never bothered. All I have is me. The only thing in the world I rely on is me.
I used the alcohol as an anchor to keep me afloat. It gave me something to feel. Until it wore off, and I felt that empty hole inside me again, and I was just numb. I just floated along, to keep from going under. There were times where I wanted to indulge in other people; just for someone to give a shit. But I guess that people are just too damn busy with their own lives; concerning materialistic items and selfish desires. But even I sound a little selfish, don't I? I want human companionship so I don't feel as lonely. I want someone to believe in me. Even my own parents depreciate me into nothing. It's cool – I'm just your son that you assisted in creating and helped raise. It's not that I'm important or anything.
I can't be a hypocrite; I don't care about other people either. But that's because no one cares about me, so I don't try to care about others. I don't put forth the effort into building a friendship, just to watch it fall apart. I used the cigarettes and one night stands as something to live for. But the truth is, I was only living then. I wasn't living now, and honestly, I wasn't sure how to live now.
Every one of my faces were alibis, surrounded by a thousand lies that could never be seen by looking into my eyes; I was that good at hiding emotions. I guess it's just something that comes with being invisible. Sometimes I wondered if there was anyone out there who would care about what I thought; what my opinions were; or just be there when I had something to say. What is that… a friend? I have one, and his name is Adam. But sometimes I wish it wasn't just Adam who understood.
End of Chapter One