The next three months passed by in a blur. Each day, Gordo wished
away the pain, and each day, he was forced to extract the pain. Let it run
from him. Punish himself, while punishing others. Relieving the pressure
building within. Forcing himself to feel something. Anything. He had
grown increasingly apathetic towards his life. When he thought about it,
it made him sad, so he ignored it completely, and felt nothing. He didn't
even feel anything while in the presence of Lizzie anymore. He just
drifted along with a melancholy expression plastered onto his face. His
father was still in complete denial. Reassuring Gordo, and more
specifically, himself, Gordo's dad could be heard saying, "Don't worry, any
day now, she'll realize everything she's missing. It's just her pride.
She knows she was wrong but she's too proud to admit it. Don't worry.
She'll be back. I know it." This kind of talk only made Gordo feel sorry
for his father, then extreme guilt that there was nothing he could do to
help him. School, had also become a blur. Most of the day was spent
staring off into space, his mind completely blank. He just drifted, like a
feather falling to the ground. It didn't just fall, it glided, following
the wind sideways, landing on other desinations. Drifting. Gordo's grades
had dropped slightly, because of his lack of energy. If he never moved
again, he felt it would be too soon. The urge to come home, pop a few
tylenol p.m.s and sleep all day, was greater than ever. Still, when the
stress of life consumed him, or when he felt too numb to move, Gordo
indulged in his secret vice. Yet, there wasn't much space left. Some of
the wounds healed. Some left scars. Some were carved into shapes or
words. Others just stuck out, blatantly. Still, no one noticed.
