-1As these hidden, stolen tears run down my face in the solitude of my room I cannot hold back the inevitable though that I should have seen it coming. I should have know nothing goes right for the gay film geek with a clinically insane mother. They never get the happy ending and they especially never get the guy. I have seen enough movies to know the "Your mom transitions and her alter personality seduces your-not-really-boyfriend" plot. Its more common than you would believe.
But in all seriousness, I look back at my naive optimism and I want to vomit. How could I think that church boy could actually go for me, scrawny misunderstood artist. The kiss was probably a mistake, or, worse, some attempt at rebelling against his parents. He never cared about me, only about himself, how he could use me. That's all people do, is use me. Mom uses me as a support beam, Aunt Char uses me as her only 'sane' companion in the family, Kate uses me to compare herself against, to make sure that she's still normal, and Dad wants to uses me as the "perfect son", but I can't even do that. Last time we were "bonding" I broke out in hives.
I guess I thought that with his crazy religious parents, he would want someone to talk to, someone who would understand and not judge him against anything. And, for real, who a more understanding, non-judgmental, and attentive listener than the awkward, but sensitive guy in your film class who's mother had DID. We were supposed to bond over the insanity that surrounded us, make our own cocoon of fantasy in the middle of the storm called reality. Whatever that was physical that happened between us was only the result of our mental bonds.
Now that that idiocy has been shattered, I feel so cheap. He probably only kissed me because he was, ahem, frustrated. He probably only asked me to go biking today because he knew there would be more. Of course, it made perfect sense.
He couldn't bring home a girl because his parents would make a fuss, so he would have to keep it secret. But hey, even I know that any girl who he would have asked to do that would have refused him and then given him the cold shoulder. So what to do? Who will keep quiet? Why not the geek from my film class? He almost looks like a girl, he's such a wimp, that when I close my eyes, I might not even notice the difference! I know, I just charm him so that he'll make the first move. That way, when it all falls apart he'll blame himself instead of me!
Ok, so maybe it wasn't that elaborate, but I do not doubt his sole motive was his less than pure intentions. If sex was not the only thing on his mind, then what was he…How could he…Why the fuck did I find him at second base with T? Who is that fucked up to makeout with your mom after they makeout with you? I know it was T that kissed him, but I was my mom's body, so secretly somewhere deep inside she wants to fuck him as much as T does. I fucking hate T. Fucking. Hate. Her. Fucking hate her almost as much as I hate him.
Or as much as I wished I hated them. I know that I still want Jason. I know I still have to live with T. It's just them I hate, them together. I just want to destroy that concept.
As I look around my room, it feels like the walls are closing in, so I slip out my window into the backyard. As my feet land on the patio table, I look down and see a box of matches that T must have left around from her cigarette. After I've lowered myself to the ground and look up, I see the shed. T's shed. It's a message from God. T burned me, now I burn her. Buh-bye shed, hello revenge.