We Will Become Silhouettes

I’m holding my breath ’til Friday, when I get paid. A parking ticket or a crashed computer could send me into insolvency. Last night was bad. A party where everyone’s drunk, no one was sane enough to make decisions. The drinking games got started too early in the evening. These games are so stupid. I had to go because it was a friend’s birthday. I knew it would be bad. But decisions got made nonetheless. I walked home in the dark, too scared to drive, wishing I didn’t have to go to class in three hours. The night before I slept in the car. It felt demeaning. I will get the car later. I knew it would be bad and it was horrible. I didn’t wake up until after class was over. But it was her birthday and I had to go. I hate my life.

I have to call my parents today, get them to put more money in my account. I need to email the professor and beg for a test redo. I’ll tell him my Mom had a kidney transplant. I had cash but now it’s gone. I don’t know where it went. All seven dollars of it, gone. I am hungry, maybe my boss at Dairy Queen will let me eat if I ask nice. My phone doesn’t work. Isn’t Dad paying the bill anymore? And I’m late for work. I’m quitting my job anyway because it sucks. I wish I could graduate and get a real job.

My lease is up next week and I don’t have anywhere to live. I didn’t want to live on campus because that sucks. Now everything is full. Unless I could afford twelve hundred bucks a month. Once I had six hundred in my account. That was a long time ago before I came here. I’m glad it’s summer because I only have two shirts and a pair of basketball shorts. I hope I have some more clothes in the car somewhere. I’ve been moving so often I don’t bother to empty the car. This might be my last semester here. I meet with Student Life next week to determine my fate. Like they have anything to do with it. I hate them. They don’t understand me. Why can’t I come back next semester? Stupid professors. I learned all this stuff in high school anyway. They are all against me. I’ll find a construction job and save money to finish college later. My parents won’t pay for it though. They said I get only one chance. The professors blew it. I hate my life.

I will be famous. I have a bunch of rap songs written already. They’re about death and darkness. I’m an artist. Why don’t they notice? I’m only 19 but I’m a good poet. Especially when I have my Scotch. Can’t go without the stuff. It’s me and the bottle against the world. I’m king of the world, everyone will bow to me. When they realize. Stupid jerks.

Sorry, but this is a crack at fiction by yours truly. But it’s not fiction because it really happened to dear friends of mine. I couldn’t bring myself to write of ‘them’ because–well, it’s ‘us,’ not ‘them.’ Choices. Everybody has them. But too many times Destiny ignores Choices.

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