Title: Hello and Goodbye
Author: N@talia
Disclaimer: Do I look like Tolkien to you? DO I? DO I? Nope, didn't think so. Are some of these people based on real people? Why yes, they are. And if you are one of these people then sorry, but you are interesting.
Author's Note: This is more of a narrative kind of chapter so that you can kind of see the inner workings of the main character's mind. Don't worry, it's not always like this. The content also gets lighter too. No wait, maybe not.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two girls sat in the darkened theatre, one of them concentrating intently on the movie screen, the other dozing in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, shrill screams filled the theatre, the intensity causing the room to shake and the walls to crack. The girls looked around in a panic, thinking it was Hurricane Andrew, but no, it was only Hurricane Fangirl. Noticeably annoyed by the sudden interruption in her naptime (which she had paid $9.50 for) one of the two girls grabbed the other girl then ran out of the theatre. Behind them, the theatre collapsed into itself while a flood of drool gushed out of the ruins. Then, a big headed baby flew out of the sky and nuclear war erupted.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
The harsh "beeps" that beeped awoke me from my dream. Mumbling a string of curses I hoisted myself out of bed, nearly tripping over a pile of sweaters and loose change. Having safely made it across the death trap that was my room, I turned off the annoying alarm clock and readied myself for a new day. Oh joy.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter One: My Life Now and Then and Later
The cold morning air had a sobering effect on my drowsy state. Slowly trudging down the little sidewalk I took a sharp turn and magically crossed the imaginary border between school and the outside world. Actually, make that Nazi POW camp and the outside world.
Still, this was my world and this was my life. The cold concrete and asphalt at my feet is the land of the wounded animal known as Los Angeles, and the people around me are the parasites that thrive on the beast's open sores. Excuse me, I'm being cynical and angst ridden again.
Walking a bit further into the mostly empty campus I saw a few of my not-so- good friends, all huddled together like a bunch of hobo's around a flaming trashcan (the hobo's are around the trashcan, not my friends. As I trudged closer, one of them noticed me, and greetings were thrown back and forth like snowballs.
"Morning Kitty!"
"Hi Alex."
"Hi Kat!"
"Hello Melissa."
"Good Morning Kathy!"
"Good Morning Marissa."
What's with the nichnames?!
Having exchanged pleasantries they went back to their huddling. I carefully inched closer, unconsciously pulling my red-streaked "ebony" hair behind my ears. Upon closer inspection I saw that they were all huddled around a collection of Orlando Bloom merchandise: plushies (rather crappily made), pictures, posters, etc. In fact, they were actually playing poker to see who would get to possess all the merchandise. Seeing him, I felt a flood of wistful remorse wash over me, but I kept it all inside. So, instead of lighting their precious memorabilia on fire I just watched them gamble until the bell rang.
Sitting in class, I thought about everything that happened over the last few years. I tend to do that in class. Mr. Lee's words were lost on me; all I heard was a kind of buzzing noise. My "friends", the ones in a so- called "Circle of Trust" said that I had changed somehow. They said that I was a different person. I don't hang out with them anymore. It wasn't just them though, even my oh-so-loving mom noticed a change and took me to a psychiatrist. Turned out that I was suffering from manic depression and a possible case of mild schizophrenia, meaning that the screws in my head were more than a little loose. Still, Mrs. Jones (my shrink) was a nice old lady, the kind of lady that would make a great grandma. She was a very nice old lady. She must have been vegetarian.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"So basically, I'm insane. Or rather, I went from totally well-adjusted TO insane."
The gray-haired woman smiled sympathetically at me. "No, I'm not saying that you're insane, just. . . unhappy. That's the reason why you're here, so I can help you deal with your, unhappiness."
I guess that's about right. "Well, it's just that life's not so great. Nope. In fact, it just plain sucks. One big world of sucks." Sarcasm dripped off all the words that came out of my mouth.
"So would you like to tell me the source of the problem?" she asked in a patient voice.
I hesitated because quite frankly, no, I don't want to tell her. And, supposing that I DID tell her, she'd think that I'm an even bigger nutcase than I think I am.
"Well... " I pause, thinking about what to say "it all started when I was three... "
Mrs. Jones listened intently as I basically gave her a rather long "synopsis" of my childhood.
From there, the bullshit just kept piling on and on.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
That was about two years ago, when I was a blossoming sixteen year-old, but without the blossoming (if you know what I mean). Now I'm a senior in high school, and I'm pretty much over the whole "manic depression" thing. No really, I am.
The bell rings, and all the students, myself included, file out of the room. Time to find nourishment for the stomach and social stimulation for the mind.
Eve, a member of the "Circle of Trust" (insert dramatic BGM) was waiting for me outside the classroom. She's the only one I still talk to.
"HI KITTY!!!" she practically screamed, even though she was barely three feet away from me.
"Ugh, Eve, my name is not Kitty. It's not Kathy, Kat, Rina or Meow Mix. My name is Katherine Demeo, okay? Say it with me, Katherine Demeo." I said my name very slowly so that it would sink into her brain.
"... yeah, whatever." she shrugged, and I mutter a string of curses under my breath. I do that a lot.
Making it through the crowds of people we finally get to the cafeteria, only to find ourselves in yet another crowd of people: aka the lunch line.
"Hey... " she said mischeviously. "Do you see what I see?" Okay, I really hate it when my friends point him out to me, especially when he's only three feet ahead of me and can probably hear every frigging thing that we say.
"No, I don't." I lie, praying that she will at least spare me the embarrassment of attracting his attention by saying his name out loud.
"You know, //nudge nudge// your dream boy?"
Okay, first off, he's not my dream boy, I'm just seriously infatuated with him. My REAL "dream boy" doesn't even EXIST in this reality!!!
"HEY CHRIS!!!" she yells, and at this point I just want to die.
He turns, and upon seeing us he quickly turns back around. Damn it, someone, just kill me now.
Suddenly, a pack of Siamese dwarfs suddenly ran into the cafeteria wielding giant flame throwers of toasty doom and everyone perished!!! . . . DOOM!!!!
I wish.
No, instead, Chris and I are simply visibly annoyed for different reasons, and he probably thinks I'm even creepier then I was 5 minutes ago.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He was never real. I have to just accept that and move on with my life.
I start walking to my homeroom. My psychiatrist said that I was well enough to go to school. So, here I am. In school. Yes sirree.
Woah. What happened to him?
I hesitantly walk up to him. His head is down and his long (for a guy) hair creates a curtain between him and the rest of the world. Okay, someone forgot their anti-depressants this morning.\
"Hey. . .Chris? I'm Katherine. From Middle School? Remember?"
Slowly he turns his head towards me. You can almost hear the sound of rusty hinges. He stares. And he stares. And he stares. And he stares.
". . .sorry I asked. . ."
"Huh? Oh. Yeah, I remember you." he pauses "Sorry. I was thinking."
You think weird.
"Whatever."
I slowly sit in my seat and try to tune out the morbidly depressed guy behind me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It's because he doesn't know me. He doesn't know me at all. I'm just another crazy stalker girl to him. That or he's gay. Either way, it all spelled out one thing: REJECTION.
Whatever. It hurts. I want to get over him, but I can't. It's so stupid.
"Hello? EARTH TO KAT!!!"
Apparently I had been absentmindedly picking at my salad. For the past five minutes.
". . .yes?" I reply, still very angry by the little "Chris" incident that occurred just ten minutes ago.
". . .I'm bored!!!"
I sigh. I know what she wants to hear.
"We can go to the mall later."
"YAY!!!" she squeals, being the very predictable two-dimensional character that she is.
Sometimes, I could just stab myself with a barbecue fork.
*
I drive down the dark streets with Eve in the passenger seat. My feet hurt like hell and I'm as tired as hell, and where in God's name am I?
The streets are unfamiliar to me, and there is no sound, save for the car and the light wheezing coming from the multi-cellular organism next to me. All the houses's lights are out, and the light coming from the streetlamps are dull and muted. It's like a shitty watercolor made from the most expensive paints. Don't ask me what that means, I'm just trying to be poetic.
Why now? What's happening? Everything feels like a dream again. . .I'm out of touch with reality and it's all your fault.
I briefly remember Mrs. Jones, the people in the white coats, and the syringes. Ah yes, the syringes.
I feel so strange. . .no, not again. . .it's getting dark. . .
"SNAP OUT OF IT" I mentally scream, and I do.
I've got to stop having these weird semi-out of body experiences.
I continue driving down the poorly lit streets, past the dark houses with their foreboding shadows, past the 7-11 owned by the immigrant who takes so much flak for being different. I drive and I drive until it occurs to me that it's 11:00 and I'm supposed to be home. Eve is still sleeping. Sleep sounds nice. I look at the clock one more time, funny, I didn't know that it could read 13. Funny.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I know he exists! I KNOW IT!" I scream. They try to tell me otherwise, but I know.
"You don't seem to understand, dear. Such things simply aren't possible. What I need you to tell me is what has caused you to change. Apparently, you were quite well-adjusted up until about three weeks ago." she kindly tells me.
I don't know what to do. Why am I even here? Where was I? Where am I? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!
"Maybe, if you just open up a bit, then we can find the root of the problem."
Don't give me that. Don't give me that fake smile. I can't live without him. I can't.
"Does life go on after the butterfly crosses the rainbow?" I ask, the ends of my mouth slightly turning up.
"Ok, now you're just being stupid."
Maybe. Maybe I am stupid. But this is all his fault. I can't live without him, and he is going to pay.
Author: N@talia
Disclaimer: Do I look like Tolkien to you? DO I? DO I? Nope, didn't think so. Are some of these people based on real people? Why yes, they are. And if you are one of these people then sorry, but you are interesting.
Author's Note: This is more of a narrative kind of chapter so that you can kind of see the inner workings of the main character's mind. Don't worry, it's not always like this. The content also gets lighter too. No wait, maybe not.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two girls sat in the darkened theatre, one of them concentrating intently on the movie screen, the other dozing in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, shrill screams filled the theatre, the intensity causing the room to shake and the walls to crack. The girls looked around in a panic, thinking it was Hurricane Andrew, but no, it was only Hurricane Fangirl. Noticeably annoyed by the sudden interruption in her naptime (which she had paid $9.50 for) one of the two girls grabbed the other girl then ran out of the theatre. Behind them, the theatre collapsed into itself while a flood of drool gushed out of the ruins. Then, a big headed baby flew out of the sky and nuclear war erupted.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
The harsh "beeps" that beeped awoke me from my dream. Mumbling a string of curses I hoisted myself out of bed, nearly tripping over a pile of sweaters and loose change. Having safely made it across the death trap that was my room, I turned off the annoying alarm clock and readied myself for a new day. Oh joy.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter One: My Life Now and Then and Later
The cold morning air had a sobering effect on my drowsy state. Slowly trudging down the little sidewalk I took a sharp turn and magically crossed the imaginary border between school and the outside world. Actually, make that Nazi POW camp and the outside world.
Still, this was my world and this was my life. The cold concrete and asphalt at my feet is the land of the wounded animal known as Los Angeles, and the people around me are the parasites that thrive on the beast's open sores. Excuse me, I'm being cynical and angst ridden again.
Walking a bit further into the mostly empty campus I saw a few of my not-so- good friends, all huddled together like a bunch of hobo's around a flaming trashcan (the hobo's are around the trashcan, not my friends. As I trudged closer, one of them noticed me, and greetings were thrown back and forth like snowballs.
"Morning Kitty!"
"Hi Alex."
"Hi Kat!"
"Hello Melissa."
"Good Morning Kathy!"
"Good Morning Marissa."
What's with the nichnames?!
Having exchanged pleasantries they went back to their huddling. I carefully inched closer, unconsciously pulling my red-streaked "ebony" hair behind my ears. Upon closer inspection I saw that they were all huddled around a collection of Orlando Bloom merchandise: plushies (rather crappily made), pictures, posters, etc. In fact, they were actually playing poker to see who would get to possess all the merchandise. Seeing him, I felt a flood of wistful remorse wash over me, but I kept it all inside. So, instead of lighting their precious memorabilia on fire I just watched them gamble until the bell rang.
Sitting in class, I thought about everything that happened over the last few years. I tend to do that in class. Mr. Lee's words were lost on me; all I heard was a kind of buzzing noise. My "friends", the ones in a so- called "Circle of Trust" said that I had changed somehow. They said that I was a different person. I don't hang out with them anymore. It wasn't just them though, even my oh-so-loving mom noticed a change and took me to a psychiatrist. Turned out that I was suffering from manic depression and a possible case of mild schizophrenia, meaning that the screws in my head were more than a little loose. Still, Mrs. Jones (my shrink) was a nice old lady, the kind of lady that would make a great grandma. She was a very nice old lady. She must have been vegetarian.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"So basically, I'm insane. Or rather, I went from totally well-adjusted TO insane."
The gray-haired woman smiled sympathetically at me. "No, I'm not saying that you're insane, just. . . unhappy. That's the reason why you're here, so I can help you deal with your, unhappiness."
I guess that's about right. "Well, it's just that life's not so great. Nope. In fact, it just plain sucks. One big world of sucks." Sarcasm dripped off all the words that came out of my mouth.
"So would you like to tell me the source of the problem?" she asked in a patient voice.
I hesitated because quite frankly, no, I don't want to tell her. And, supposing that I DID tell her, she'd think that I'm an even bigger nutcase than I think I am.
"Well... " I pause, thinking about what to say "it all started when I was three... "
Mrs. Jones listened intently as I basically gave her a rather long "synopsis" of my childhood.
From there, the bullshit just kept piling on and on.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
That was about two years ago, when I was a blossoming sixteen year-old, but without the blossoming (if you know what I mean). Now I'm a senior in high school, and I'm pretty much over the whole "manic depression" thing. No really, I am.
The bell rings, and all the students, myself included, file out of the room. Time to find nourishment for the stomach and social stimulation for the mind.
Eve, a member of the "Circle of Trust" (insert dramatic BGM) was waiting for me outside the classroom. She's the only one I still talk to.
"HI KITTY!!!" she practically screamed, even though she was barely three feet away from me.
"Ugh, Eve, my name is not Kitty. It's not Kathy, Kat, Rina or Meow Mix. My name is Katherine Demeo, okay? Say it with me, Katherine Demeo." I said my name very slowly so that it would sink into her brain.
"... yeah, whatever." she shrugged, and I mutter a string of curses under my breath. I do that a lot.
Making it through the crowds of people we finally get to the cafeteria, only to find ourselves in yet another crowd of people: aka the lunch line.
"Hey... " she said mischeviously. "Do you see what I see?" Okay, I really hate it when my friends point him out to me, especially when he's only three feet ahead of me and can probably hear every frigging thing that we say.
"No, I don't." I lie, praying that she will at least spare me the embarrassment of attracting his attention by saying his name out loud.
"You know, //nudge nudge// your dream boy?"
Okay, first off, he's not my dream boy, I'm just seriously infatuated with him. My REAL "dream boy" doesn't even EXIST in this reality!!!
"HEY CHRIS!!!" she yells, and at this point I just want to die.
He turns, and upon seeing us he quickly turns back around. Damn it, someone, just kill me now.
Suddenly, a pack of Siamese dwarfs suddenly ran into the cafeteria wielding giant flame throwers of toasty doom and everyone perished!!! . . . DOOM!!!!
I wish.
No, instead, Chris and I are simply visibly annoyed for different reasons, and he probably thinks I'm even creepier then I was 5 minutes ago.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He was never real. I have to just accept that and move on with my life.
I start walking to my homeroom. My psychiatrist said that I was well enough to go to school. So, here I am. In school. Yes sirree.
Woah. What happened to him?
I hesitantly walk up to him. His head is down and his long (for a guy) hair creates a curtain between him and the rest of the world. Okay, someone forgot their anti-depressants this morning.\
"Hey. . .Chris? I'm Katherine. From Middle School? Remember?"
Slowly he turns his head towards me. You can almost hear the sound of rusty hinges. He stares. And he stares. And he stares. And he stares.
". . .sorry I asked. . ."
"Huh? Oh. Yeah, I remember you." he pauses "Sorry. I was thinking."
You think weird.
"Whatever."
I slowly sit in my seat and try to tune out the morbidly depressed guy behind me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It's because he doesn't know me. He doesn't know me at all. I'm just another crazy stalker girl to him. That or he's gay. Either way, it all spelled out one thing: REJECTION.
Whatever. It hurts. I want to get over him, but I can't. It's so stupid.
"Hello? EARTH TO KAT!!!"
Apparently I had been absentmindedly picking at my salad. For the past five minutes.
". . .yes?" I reply, still very angry by the little "Chris" incident that occurred just ten minutes ago.
". . .I'm bored!!!"
I sigh. I know what she wants to hear.
"We can go to the mall later."
"YAY!!!" she squeals, being the very predictable two-dimensional character that she is.
Sometimes, I could just stab myself with a barbecue fork.
*
I drive down the dark streets with Eve in the passenger seat. My feet hurt like hell and I'm as tired as hell, and where in God's name am I?
The streets are unfamiliar to me, and there is no sound, save for the car and the light wheezing coming from the multi-cellular organism next to me. All the houses's lights are out, and the light coming from the streetlamps are dull and muted. It's like a shitty watercolor made from the most expensive paints. Don't ask me what that means, I'm just trying to be poetic.
Why now? What's happening? Everything feels like a dream again. . .I'm out of touch with reality and it's all your fault.
I briefly remember Mrs. Jones, the people in the white coats, and the syringes. Ah yes, the syringes.
I feel so strange. . .no, not again. . .it's getting dark. . .
"SNAP OUT OF IT" I mentally scream, and I do.
I've got to stop having these weird semi-out of body experiences.
I continue driving down the poorly lit streets, past the dark houses with their foreboding shadows, past the 7-11 owned by the immigrant who takes so much flak for being different. I drive and I drive until it occurs to me that it's 11:00 and I'm supposed to be home. Eve is still sleeping. Sleep sounds nice. I look at the clock one more time, funny, I didn't know that it could read 13. Funny.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I know he exists! I KNOW IT!" I scream. They try to tell me otherwise, but I know.
"You don't seem to understand, dear. Such things simply aren't possible. What I need you to tell me is what has caused you to change. Apparently, you were quite well-adjusted up until about three weeks ago." she kindly tells me.
I don't know what to do. Why am I even here? Where was I? Where am I? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!
"Maybe, if you just open up a bit, then we can find the root of the problem."
Don't give me that. Don't give me that fake smile. I can't live without him. I can't.
"Does life go on after the butterfly crosses the rainbow?" I ask, the ends of my mouth slightly turning up.
"Ok, now you're just being stupid."
Maybe. Maybe I am stupid. But this is all his fault. I can't live without him, and he is going to pay.