You know that feeling when everything you do just seems wrong? Because that's what I fucking feel like right now. All I can say at the moment.. is fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I told Kenny. He knows my feelings for him. Uh...Sorta. My drunken memory is horrible. I get so drunk sometimes, I say and do fucked up things that I'd never do sober.

And now he hates me.

To be exact; this is what happened within the past week. In precise detail:

~I couldn't take it anymore. Every fucking thing that's been done to me. I need to fucking escape..

I reached under my bed and pulled out a half-gone bottle of vodka. This shit is my fucking lifesaver. Glad I was home alone, I chugged some of the throat-burning liquid, coughing after the sudden ingestion of so much. I looked at the bottle, slightly shivering at the sensation in my body. I instantaneously became drunk from the mostly-pure alcohol.

"mgmnhgmm", I slurred, taking another burning sip; throwing up not too long afterwards.

My body began to lead my fried brain out of my house, and down thr street to the ghetto side past the train tracks to Kenny's tiny run-down house. I drunkenly knocked on the door, then kicked it a couple times when nobody had answered seconds later. Soon, which seemed like forever, Kenny finally opened the door.

"Oh... Sup, Craig." He said in his perfect voice.

"Heeey baaabbe~" I slurred; eyes half closed; stumbling a bit into him.

".. You're drunk, I see." He chuckled. Kenny's laugh.. So amazing. Anything about him is amazing.

"Shhhh! Dohnnt teehhll anyone!" I pushed myself past him, stumbling into his house, tripping over my feet, and falling to the floor. He helped me up. I stared at him and poked his chest. "Yooouuhh.."

"Me?" He chuckled. "You're interesting when you're drunk. And don't try to convince me otherwise. Your breath has vodka written all over it."

"Whuh...I uhh...Fhhhnf." Was all I was able to make out.

"English please?"

I shook my head and snorted, poking his chest again. "I looove youuu~." I said, then licked his cheek. He made a disgusted noise then took my wrist; dragging me to his room.

"You, my friend.. Need to chill." He muttered to me, making me sit down on his small, squeaky bed. "You've brought yourself to believe you like me. Tch Tch Tch.." He smirked and poked my forehead. "Guess I can't blame ya." He chuckled again, clearly having fun with this.

I looked at him. "I doooo Luuhve yoou~!" I stuck my tongue out at him, acting totally different due to the immense vodka intake.

"Yeah, Okay, Craig." He shook his head a bit, smiling beautifully.

"nyeeehh" I mumbled, throwing up on the floor, then passing out on Kenny's bed. Passing out drunk is the only way I'd be able to sleep for more than three hours.

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. "... Mghh.. Ow.." I mumbled, looking at Kenny who was sitting on the floor by the bed, looking at me with tired eyes. He yawned.

"Ngh. Jesus, man. How do you do it?" Another yawn. "I just pulled an allnighter to watch you to see if you would accidentally puke in your sleep or something."

I took Kenny's ripped, flat pillow and put it over my face to block the light. "Well. Can you turn off the light? And while your ass is up, you should get me aspirin."

Kenny scoffed. "I have Ghetto stolen convience store brand aspirin that sucks tits. Want that?"

"Yeah whatever," I pressed the pillow to my face harder, Trying to fall back into that state of unconsciousness that I rarely get.

Kenny soon came back. I could hear the smile in his voice. Something I'm incapable of in front of people. "You're gonna suffocate, retard." He places something down on the floor and took the pillow off my face. The room was not as bright, for Kenny listened to me by turning the light off. He took the glass of water that he had placed on the floor, and handed it to me; then popping two ghetto aspirins in my hand. "This might or might not help." He yawned again. "let's hope it helps."

I swallowed the pills along with the water. Kenny looked down at me. "So.. You didn't answer me before."

"What did you ask me.." I muttered, stretching a bit.

He scoffed, showing off his amazing smirk. "How do you do it?"

"Do what."

"Not sleep." He yawned again. I had lost count by how many times he's yawned in the past few minutes. "I haven't seen you sleep ever since we were younger. Plus the darkish huge ass bags under your eyes kinda make it more obvious."

"I don't know. I just don't." I simply replied, sitting up in the bed. Kenny sat down next to me. We turned to face each other.

"Do you sleep? Other than when you pass out drunk?"

I nodded. "Yeah.. Not too often though.." I avoided his eyes, like always when we have a conversation about myself.

"Why?" he asked. I could feel his eyes on me, even though I refused to look into his.

"Because I have insomnia. How difficult is that to fucking figure out."

"It's difficult to figure out because I know absolutely nothing about you." His voice has a bit of a tone in it. "I'm... totally not trying to be rude here, because frankly, I love you, man. You're my bro. My best friend. But You know me inside and out. I can tell you anything, and I feel like your hiding yourself from me."

"Why are you throwing this on me all of a sudden? I have a splitting fucking headache right now."

He ignored my words and asked me. "Do you have a crush on me at all?"

That really caught me off-guard. Of course, I wanted to say yes, but I shook my head, not showing any hint of surprise on my face at all. "Why would you ask me that."

"Do you remember anything yesterday? Saying anything?"

I shook my head.

"You said you loved me. Twice. And called me babe when you walked into my house."

I rolled my eyes, showing no care whatsoever; when in my mind, I'm scared. Really. Fucking. Scared. I said flatly, "I was wasted."

"No shit, man. But I read some shit on Stan's computer one time. That some people express their true feelings towards someone while high or drunk. If you like me, It's fine, I don't blame you; I'm hot. Just can't picture you actually feeling compassion or love towards anything. You're a fucking heartless zombie, Craig."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that last thing Kenny said. Was it an insult? I don't know. I just remained silent.

"Dude. Craig. You expect me to say you're anything else? You don't care about anything. You stare blankly into space and refuse to show ANY emotion. You're paler than the color white, and you're most likely almost underweight. You're a zombie, dude. Just smile or fucking do something. Maybe if you did like me, you'd show some emotion. If you just so happen to, and still act like this... I don't know what to think. At all."

I stayed quiet for a moment before quietly speaking up. "Can we just get off the subject." Before I fucking scream?

"You say that every time we talk about you. How is it, that you know everything about me. Every-fucking-thing. And I know nothing about you other than your name. And we're supposedly 'best friends'." He shook his head a bit. "look in my eyes."

I locked my dull gray eyes to his bright blue ones. "You know everything." Holy fucking lie.

He shook his head. "You're fucking kidding me. If I was your real best friend, I'd know why you act like this. I'd know everything. Just like you know everything about me. From my fucked up family problems to why I hate being a part-time prostitute. I know nothing about you, Craig.. Nothing. And I'm starting to regret telling you my innermost sacred fucking secrets. Because you clearly don't trust me enough to tell me yours. Or anything about you. I wish you were still like you were when you were 10. You actually expressed yourself more, and smiled sometimes."

"...My teeth are fucked..." That was all I could say. Kenny just scoffed.

"Yeah fucking right. So what if they're a little crooked? Doesn't mean you shouldn't smile. Or act like... This! I miss the old you, man. The you I became best friends with."

"We all fucking miss things, Kenny. But I told you everything I could. Don't wanna believe me? Fine." That was somewhat true..

I got this turning feeling in my stomach. Not as if I was going to throw up, but just... that feeling that I know something's gonna go horribly wrong.

"I don't believe you. At all. You have a reason. I know you do. Everyone does. It's how life is. Maybe we shouldn't be best friends, or anything anymore. To be honest, I'm sick of you. Your whole zombie thing? I can't stand it. I want in. At first, I didn't mind. I thought, 'Well, Okay. He needs his time to come up to tell me about it.' You know when I thought that? Hm? 5 years ago. Almost 6." He got up and pointed to his bedroom door. "There's the door, Craig. Use it. If you ever decide to come to your senses and actually tell me something and act like a best friend? I'll be here. ..And... Thomas might be here too if you show up at the wrong time, But you get my point."

I looked at him. He wants me to leave. He's pissed off at me. He hates me. I'm sorry. "What-fucking-ever. Wanna hate me along with everyone else? Okay, cool." I stood up and walked out of his bedroom, slamming the door; doing the same with his front door.

Was this because I told him I "loved" him? Whatever. He hates me. And that's all I care about.

I speed-walked to my house, sprinting up the stairs, and into my room; then slamming the door. I laid on my bed, stuffing my face in my pillow, feeling my eyes well up with tears.

I'd never experienced it before. Out of all the things I have gone through, heartbreak isn't one of them. I've heard how bad it hurts. I never thought it'd be this bad. To know that the person you're deeply in love with, hates your fucking guts.

My fingers dug deep into my pillow as I began to sob. My heart is gone. So fucking gone. Nobody thinks it was there to begin with, so what's the point?

The heartbroken feeling just kept on getting worse. I didn't even attempt to calm down. I let the tears fall. I let the sobs out. I let my body shake. I let everything happen in hopes to just cry myself out. Maybe, I figured, Maybe if I just cried for hours on end, I'd be better. The feelings would be gone. That theory was gone almost immidiately after I had thought it. With every tear, and every sob, the feeling just got worse. I couldn't shake the fact that Kenny hates me. He makes me feel wanted. Needed. Now, I feel worthless...

I closed my eyes in hopes of crying myself to sleep. Not happening. I sighed, wiping the last of the tears that have been falling for about an hour. I curled up in a ball on my bed, staring at the walls of my room. My mouth felt weird. I hate that gooey feeling you get after crying.

What? This isn't the first time Craig's dared to shed a tear? Honey, you don't know the fucking half of it. Nobody does.

I had that feeling again. That feeling I have when I go days without seeing Kenny, or when I see Kenny with his freak of a boyfriend. I feel worthless. And now that he hates me, I know I am. I clenched my fists, my longish nails digging into my hands, hard enough to break skin and slightly bleed. I ignored the pain, digging my nails deeper over old scars from doing the same thing many times. My palms are covered in scars by doing this. Nobody would know because nobody seems to look close enough... And the fact that I always wear sleeves long enough to cover it.~

..And that's what went down. Now, I'm doing absolutely nothing other than surfing through the internet on my iPhone 4 I had bought myself after saving up from working at K-Mart. I got fired not too long ago because I never showed up for work anymore.

I couldn't go. For the same reasons why I don't go to school too much. The same reason why I am the way I am.

Him.