Found this buried in a file somewhere. It's pretty old. :D Matt PoV. :)
Enjoy!
People thought I wasn't deep.
That I was just some gamer who didn't want to talk about anything. That I'd rather talk to a wall than to some hopeless romantic.
Thing was, I am deep. My stripes, for instance. Narrow minded people saw them only as stripes; I saw them as a way to tell myself that it would never, ever happen. We'll always be apart. A constant reminder that we're only friends, don't try anything, stay in the closet, idiot. I knew that Mello would ditch me right then and there if I told him. Every legal guardian and orphanage I'd been too either left me or kicked me out to the streets when I told them.
So I stayed in the closet.
And made sure my stripes never left. Everyday since I met that golden-haired boy, I wore stripes. I never explained it to him.
My goggles. I kept them on all the time except when I'm sleeping so people wouldn't see the emotion. People say that eyes are windows to the heart; and I did not and absolutely never wanted to become some open-book. The orange tint was protecting me, keeping others from harming me, making sure I was closed away.
My games were my escape. They were filled with adventure and excitement and with a click of a button you could start over, do it right. More than one chance. You could do whatever the hell you wanted, die, and come back to life at the next check point. No matter what.
Games were alternate universes for me. I could be a knight, a wizard, an evil warlock- anything. I could be a Pokemon trainer if I wanted to.
Hell.
I closed myself up so others couldn't.
That sounds so messed up when you put it that way.
I chuckled with no humor as I played my game, earning a few stares from the other kids in the Main Room. I clicked it off without saving and smiled slightly to myself, mocking myself.
Mentally self-harming myself.
I'm hell-of-a-lot messed and screwed up, aren't I?
Yep.
At least there aren't any physical scars yet; I'm not psycho.
Yet.
