Post by wackycheese on Aug 25, 2007 23:00:55 GMT -5
I'm going to say that this is a T-rated story because it is a bit... well, out there and violence is implied but nothing is described in detail.
In essence it is a story about a girl who goes crazy obsessing over a guy. She ends up mutilating herself and is just possessed by this guy's very essence.
"Obsession"
Was I invisible?
I did everything. I changed my hair, my makeup, my clothes, and yet, he eluded me. The only interaction I got with him was when I dropped my books and he got them for me, like a perfect gentleman. How sweet. How cute. How non-personal, cold, robotic, automatic, and generic of him. There are only so many times that you drop books in front of boy without looking weird.
I must look really weird.
What would it take? I was attractive, certainly. I’d had boyfriends over the years, but never had I wanted something or someone so intensely. Late at night, I’d lay in bed and think of him, his brown eyes, his black hair, the tattoos running up his arms. I’d fantasize about him and cry over him and plot ways to get him but nothing ever worked.
At our lockers I’d strike up conversation.
He was right next to me.
“So,” I’d muse, “what’s up?” Flipping my long hair, smiling, looking cute.
“Nothing much,” he’d mumble, without even looking at me. And then he’d hurry off to Calc or Trig or whatever while I stood, dumbstruck.
Other boys spoke to me. Other boys flirted. Other boys stared.
What was wrong with him??
In English, I sat behind him. Gorgeous him. I failed English.
As time progressed, I failed every class but Art Essentials. I got a C- in that.
It’s not like I was stupid or conceited, I used to maintain Honor Roll and had friends everywhere. But all I could manage was a brief greeting in the morning. No matter how appealing I seemed, it was never good enough.
He didn’t have a girlfriend. So why was he so uninterested?
Everybody else clamored for me.
One day I “accidentally” ran face-first into him, falling on top of his angelic body and spreading his books and mine everywhere. People scurried out of the way and I just lay there on top of him, the world frozen.
It thawed when he asked, voice strung with panic and confusion, “What the hell?”
“Sorry, I must’ve ran into you,” I stammered, struggling up and blushing. Any other boy would have that happen to them. But he just glared at me as he got up.
“Yeah, well, watch out next time,” he grumbled, not looking at me. I wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed, I was exhilarated. I vegan picking up my books, expected him to gallantly lend a hand, but he just stalked off, and some other dorky kid began helping hurriedly as I stood in a daze.
I ran after him, leaving the kid with an armful of books.
“Are you alright?” I called, hopefully.
He ignored.
Similar incidents kept happening like that all month. I fell on him in English and Gym. And everywhere else possible.
Was that hate or adoration in his eyes?
I was too lovesick to sort it out.
Still he didn’t notice me. He just further ignored me.
So I started calling hiss cell phone, and for some reason, it wouldn’t take my calls.
No one would answer the home phone.
I carved his name into my arm with a razor blade. He noticed that.
I did just a half-an-hour before school started. I didn’t clean up the blood drying around it, that would make it conspicuous.
I made him puke everywhere when I showed it to him.
Was that hate or adoration in his eyes?
I was too woozy to tell.
A week later I learned that he was gay. So I killed him with the razor blade that I had used to cut. I burned his body and carry his teeth with me, still in love.
They haven’t found him.
Late at night, I cry. I cry because there was no hope.
I mean, he was gay.
In essence it is a story about a girl who goes crazy obsessing over a guy. She ends up mutilating herself and is just possessed by this guy's very essence.
"Obsession"
Was I invisible?
I did everything. I changed my hair, my makeup, my clothes, and yet, he eluded me. The only interaction I got with him was when I dropped my books and he got them for me, like a perfect gentleman. How sweet. How cute. How non-personal, cold, robotic, automatic, and generic of him. There are only so many times that you drop books in front of boy without looking weird.
I must look really weird.
What would it take? I was attractive, certainly. I’d had boyfriends over the years, but never had I wanted something or someone so intensely. Late at night, I’d lay in bed and think of him, his brown eyes, his black hair, the tattoos running up his arms. I’d fantasize about him and cry over him and plot ways to get him but nothing ever worked.
At our lockers I’d strike up conversation.
He was right next to me.
“So,” I’d muse, “what’s up?” Flipping my long hair, smiling, looking cute.
“Nothing much,” he’d mumble, without even looking at me. And then he’d hurry off to Calc or Trig or whatever while I stood, dumbstruck.
Other boys spoke to me. Other boys flirted. Other boys stared.
What was wrong with him??
In English, I sat behind him. Gorgeous him. I failed English.
As time progressed, I failed every class but Art Essentials. I got a C- in that.
It’s not like I was stupid or conceited, I used to maintain Honor Roll and had friends everywhere. But all I could manage was a brief greeting in the morning. No matter how appealing I seemed, it was never good enough.
He didn’t have a girlfriend. So why was he so uninterested?
Everybody else clamored for me.
One day I “accidentally” ran face-first into him, falling on top of his angelic body and spreading his books and mine everywhere. People scurried out of the way and I just lay there on top of him, the world frozen.
It thawed when he asked, voice strung with panic and confusion, “What the hell?”
“Sorry, I must’ve ran into you,” I stammered, struggling up and blushing. Any other boy would have that happen to them. But he just glared at me as he got up.
“Yeah, well, watch out next time,” he grumbled, not looking at me. I wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed, I was exhilarated. I vegan picking up my books, expected him to gallantly lend a hand, but he just stalked off, and some other dorky kid began helping hurriedly as I stood in a daze.
I ran after him, leaving the kid with an armful of books.
“Are you alright?” I called, hopefully.
He ignored.
Similar incidents kept happening like that all month. I fell on him in English and Gym. And everywhere else possible.
Was that hate or adoration in his eyes?
I was too lovesick to sort it out.
Still he didn’t notice me. He just further ignored me.
So I started calling hiss cell phone, and for some reason, it wouldn’t take my calls.
No one would answer the home phone.
I carved his name into my arm with a razor blade. He noticed that.
I did just a half-an-hour before school started. I didn’t clean up the blood drying around it, that would make it conspicuous.
I made him puke everywhere when I showed it to him.
Was that hate or adoration in his eyes?
I was too woozy to tell.
A week later I learned that he was gay. So I killed him with the razor blade that I had used to cut. I burned his body and carry his teeth with me, still in love.
They haven’t found him.
Late at night, I cry. I cry because there was no hope.
I mean, he was gay.
