Disclaimer- I don't own LaaH. God I wish I owned at least Hayden
Christensen. Drooool. That would be sweet! I wouldn't mind owning Guster's
song Rainy Day, also. Alas- I own neither, as you may have guessed form the
fore mentioned statements. (Pity me now)
Sam sat in the car with Josh, after mumbling an excuse and thank you to Alyssa and her mom. He smoked his weed, thinking numbing thoughts as the drug swirled in his nose. Why was he doing this? Josh was a pimp but $300 dollars for two weeks… And some weed thrown in, made it all seem too good to be true. Stupidly he'd agreed. Now, with the car idling by the black Lexus he wasn't so sure. "You ready?" said Josh, more of a statement than a question.
I will dig a hole
Save my pennies for a rainy day
I will dig a hole
Savin pennies for a rainy day
I'm not scared
I will build a wall
Sensing trouble from a mile away
I will build a wall
Saw it comin from a mile away
"I- I don't know. It seems weird now." Sam wished he had refused, but he couldn't back out now. Josh placed the aluminum wrapped drugs in front of his. God he could last a week on those, especially if you threw his "father's" painkillers in. He took the offered cell and numbness and stepped out into the dark, throwing his weed to the brush. Knocking on the window he entered the dark cave of the car. "Don't look at me," he said softly. The man responded but Sam ignored his answer, only taking in the sound of his voice and the smell of the car before trying to put his mind someplace happy.
I'm not scared
I'm not scared
Try wearin your insides out
I don't even try, I know I have seen the best I'll have
I don't even try
I will just play dumb
I won't hear a single word that's said
I will bite my tongue
Never sing another song again
It'll only be twenty minutes, he tried to console himself. Only twenty. He attempted to think of someplace happy but so such place existed for him. All had ceased to exist. Happy wasn't at home where his mom hated him and his Dad and brothers thought (wrongly) he was a queer. Happy wasn't the noose in his room. Happy wasn't alone and high or even with Corey and high. Happy wasn't with his dad, the person he hated for giving up on him just like everyone else, and now hated him more for thinking he could make up for it. And happy sure as Hell wasn't this man's strange hands and body that moved over his boxers and skin. The cell beeped and Sam tumbled from the car, fighting to pull up his pants and go. He ran.
I'm not scared
I'm not scared
Try wearing my insides out
I don't even try, I know I have seen the best I'll have
I don't even try
Now they want to take my chances
I don't even try
Stop kid! Someone shouted. Oh God- forgot the phone. At least I got the drugs. Will Josh tell? Oh shit- the money. Fuckfuckfuck! Oh God, what have I done? Thoughts tumbled through Sam's head as he leaned against the pole, all which remained from the rotted deck: like him, ripped away from reality when the world crumbled around him. Was there even a reality for him? He couldn't find it, no matter where he looked and to what levels he would go. His parent's fights, his room's dark, dank highs, his father's shack, his mom's palace, the dark music he fed his brain that filtered out all but the music and drugs, the aluminum cans and pills that would dance before his closed eyes, school's loneliness and accusing stares and whispers. Reality means nothing, no, not to him. Just as there was no happiness in his world. Oh God, what had he done? What now? Oh fuck, what now?
Sam sat in the car with Josh, after mumbling an excuse and thank you to Alyssa and her mom. He smoked his weed, thinking numbing thoughts as the drug swirled in his nose. Why was he doing this? Josh was a pimp but $300 dollars for two weeks… And some weed thrown in, made it all seem too good to be true. Stupidly he'd agreed. Now, with the car idling by the black Lexus he wasn't so sure. "You ready?" said Josh, more of a statement than a question.
I will dig a hole
Save my pennies for a rainy day
I will dig a hole
Savin pennies for a rainy day
I'm not scared
I will build a wall
Sensing trouble from a mile away
I will build a wall
Saw it comin from a mile away
"I- I don't know. It seems weird now." Sam wished he had refused, but he couldn't back out now. Josh placed the aluminum wrapped drugs in front of his. God he could last a week on those, especially if you threw his "father's" painkillers in. He took the offered cell and numbness and stepped out into the dark, throwing his weed to the brush. Knocking on the window he entered the dark cave of the car. "Don't look at me," he said softly. The man responded but Sam ignored his answer, only taking in the sound of his voice and the smell of the car before trying to put his mind someplace happy.
I'm not scared
I'm not scared
Try wearin your insides out
I don't even try, I know I have seen the best I'll have
I don't even try
I will just play dumb
I won't hear a single word that's said
I will bite my tongue
Never sing another song again
It'll only be twenty minutes, he tried to console himself. Only twenty. He attempted to think of someplace happy but so such place existed for him. All had ceased to exist. Happy wasn't at home where his mom hated him and his Dad and brothers thought (wrongly) he was a queer. Happy wasn't the noose in his room. Happy wasn't alone and high or even with Corey and high. Happy wasn't with his dad, the person he hated for giving up on him just like everyone else, and now hated him more for thinking he could make up for it. And happy sure as Hell wasn't this man's strange hands and body that moved over his boxers and skin. The cell beeped and Sam tumbled from the car, fighting to pull up his pants and go. He ran.
I'm not scared
I'm not scared
Try wearing my insides out
I don't even try, I know I have seen the best I'll have
I don't even try
Now they want to take my chances
I don't even try
Stop kid! Someone shouted. Oh God- forgot the phone. At least I got the drugs. Will Josh tell? Oh shit- the money. Fuckfuckfuck! Oh God, what have I done? Thoughts tumbled through Sam's head as he leaned against the pole, all which remained from the rotted deck: like him, ripped away from reality when the world crumbled around him. Was there even a reality for him? He couldn't find it, no matter where he looked and to what levels he would go. His parent's fights, his room's dark, dank highs, his father's shack, his mom's palace, the dark music he fed his brain that filtered out all but the music and drugs, the aluminum cans and pills that would dance before his closed eyes, school's loneliness and accusing stares and whispers. Reality means nothing, no, not to him. Just as there was no happiness in his world. Oh God, what had he done? What now? Oh fuck, what now?