Post by GUNNAR SCOTT FITZGERALD on Aug 6, 2013 13:33:39 GMT -8
| [atrb=style,width: 420px; background-color: efefef; background-image: url(http://24.media.tumblr.com/0478144b9f16c95a37367d1aca56b45c/tumblr_mkfax8tDxp1s97ldco1_500.png); padding: 5px, bTable] GUNNAR S. FITZGERALD 19 | STRAIGHT | JOB SEARCHING | COLLEGE STUDENT| DANIEL SHARMAN THE INTERVIEW You poor sweet innocent thing. I hold onto her as she's holding onto me. We both know what we are doing is wrong, but I can't stop, the touch of her intoxing or maybe it's the feeling of commiting a crime. Being caught would be the worst thing that could happen, but I keep going back to her like she's a drug and I just can't get high without her touch. The way she moves under me, her nails in my skin, I close my eyes and whisper her name, but she's crying out mine. I know she never gets touched like this, and it is like liquid fire to my soul. Everything is inflamed, blood is running down my back from the sharp fingernails she's carved into my back. She's always told everyone she was innocent, she's always promised herself a virgin, but I knew better, my friend's an idiot for believing her. She's more wild than any girl I've ever been with and trust me, I've been with a few. She won't let me go until she gets hers. This girl who isn't mine, is the only girl that has ever made me feel this way, and I know it's wrong, but damn, she drives me crazy. She moves along with me, and I can't decide where my body ends and hers begins, we've melted together next, her twin sized bed, is plenty of room for the two of us. She giggles as I roll off of her, she always wants me to kiss her, but my lips will never touch hers because she doesn't belong to me, and even if it were an option, I don't think I'd even consider it, but then again, maybe I might. For a seventeen year old, she knows exactly what she wants, and she gives me a hard look, those blue eyes melting me and for a second I feel guilty. If I could just stop myself for a moment, think about what I'm doing to a friend I've called my best friend since I was four, I would know how bad of a person this makes me, and as much as I feel bad after every encounter, the way her little nickname I've given her lights up on my phone, I know it's going to be a long while before I can work on my problems, because this is all feeling way too good. I kiss her on the collarbone, before I pull myself off the bed, the room is clean packed with teddy bears and items of her youth, I want to tell her it's distracting, a complete turn off, but I know deep down, I don't care one way or another. I'm not here to be her prince, I'm here to do what he couldn't. I pull my boxers on and my shirt over my sweaty back, and my phone rings on her bed side table, I crack a devious grin, "It's your boyfriend," I say darkly. Is it twisted that I wouldn't continue to sleep with her if she wants dating my best friend? I can't decide. I answer the phone, trying to keep my voice flat, "Ya man, I'll be over in a second, I'm just finishing up work." I say without another word to her, I leave her undressed on the bed. Dry your eyes and testify. I laugh, though I don't feel the happiness like Zac does. Him and I have been best friends since we were four and 'Dylan' too. I have always felt like I was on the outside looking in on the two of their relationship, then the two of the are together, they can't take anything seriously. It drives me nuts. If I am guilty of anything, it's that I didn't speak up sooner that I feel like an out cast in my own group of friends. I just don't understand their silly humor. They can look at each other, make a face and laugh. Zac and I went to the skate park and on a rare ocassion, I had fun with my best friend, the guy and I go way back, I wish I could seperate him from 'Dylan' but no matter what, it seems like where one is, the other is not too far behind him. The other half must be hanging out with his girlfriend, which makes me laugh. They've been together for a long time, and I bet just about anything, she'd break up with him in a heart beat if it wasn't for the fact that she's so afraid of the change that would cause her reputation. No one thinks anything negative about her, and I've kept my mouth shut, but I know her dirty little secret. Zac wraps his arm around my head, and he laughs, but I don't think it's funny, I shove him off me, "Stop," I tell him, I'm defensive, and he notices the change in me, that smile of his fades, and actually looks apologetic. I feel bad, and try and play it off as if it was nothing, but I am mad, I hate the way he thinks he can rough house with me, even if I am 6'2" I don't like to be climbed on like a jungle gym. We walk in silence, wishing like hell one of us would man up and get a car, Zac is always saying how he's going to get one, but always throws his money away on bills, out of the group of us, I guess he has his life together. I guess If I could admit to anything, I would say, I am jealous of Zac, he has everything, and I want to be more like him, but I just don't have that good streak like he does. We get to his apartment and his mom is in the kitchen, the house smells of italian food, and his mom welcomes us with a smile, "Hey boys," she says, giving Zac a hug and kisses him on the cheek, she is holding a wooden spoon, on it is is Spaghetti sauce, and she holds her arms out for me next, I do like I have always done, I am quick to embrace her, and I hold onto her giving her a tight squeeze, she gives me the same kiss she gave Zac. She has always told me I was her second son, and I have always wished that was so. My parents died when I was young in a car accident, I've been raised by my grandma ever since, that might have seemed like a great idea, but at 89 years old, she can barely remember that there is another person living in the house with her, let alone her grand son. I am locked out of the house more times than I can count, and I'm scared for what might happen to me if I tell anyone. "You staying for dinner?" she asks, and I smile, "Of course," I say, truth is, she's the best cook in the world, she could start her own restraunt if she wanted, and she'd make a killing, but she won't, her geniune itlian food only gets to be tasted by those she cares about, she says it's important to her because what makes a good meal is love that is put into it, made for people that she cares about. She smiles and waves us off with the sauce covered spoon, out of the kitchen, she's silently saying. We open his bed room and he lays on the bed, and I take his desk chair, it's wooden and he's had it for years, I cant count how many times I've sat her, and I wouldn't even want to try to take a guess. As soon as Zac hits the bed, he starts to snore, and I laugh, he wears himself out with all the work he does, that small little detail, I am not jealous of. You know you live to break me. After eating, I head back to my apartment where my grandma is sitting in the same chair as she always is, she's rocking her chair watching the news. I want to say, hey, or how are you, grandma, but the words fall short in my mouth. I can't manage to speak because I know that it will cause her to have one of her episodes, I have to live like a mouse, quiet and careful to not make too much sound. As long as she doesn't hear me or see me, she can live in her fantasy where she lives alone. As weird as it sounds, it's easier not to say anything, to pretend I don't exist than to say a word and create a mess like always. One time, she was coughing in her sleep and I came in to check on her, what turned from an innocent worry, turned into an episode where she told me that I was a demon, taking the face of Gunnar. She flat out told me that I was dead, that I had died in the car with my parents. I don't know how long she's been confused or what I can do to help, but it seems like life goings on normally as long as I keep my big mouth shut. It's hard, I won't lie. Every day when I come home, I grab the key from the top of the counter, and unlock my door, she keeps the door locked because it's the room I stayed in when my parents dropped me off for the summer time when they were alive. She doesn't want to be confronted with the memories that come with the room, or accept that I am still alive, so I do what she wants, I keep my things locked up as if I were dead. It's hard to accept that my only surviving family member thinks I am dead, and mourns me, as I sit two rooms down living and breathing. I thought about telling someone, anyone, but I don't know what they would do to her. Would they lock her up in a nursing home or a mental hospital, I don't know. I figure that if they were to ever take her out of the house, she'd probably lose her will to live and die soon after, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I were the cause of her death. So, even if this is hell, I live here, I breath here, and I keep my room locked, and I am careful to keep myself completely quiet. Don't deny sweet sacrifice. In class, I sit with my legs bent in an awkward position, I've grown way too tall to be jamming my legs into such little spaces. I think about how life was before everything exploded in my face, grandma and I were happy, we'd bake cookies together, life had been normal, it wasn't until I was fifteen that she started becoming confused with what was real and what wasn't. At first, I looked for help, guidance, I didn't understand what was happening to my grandmother, but after the doctors began to whisper about how a nursing home was the only option if her condition got any worse, I knew that it was serious. That the woman who'd raised me was slipping away, just like my parents had and I would eventually be not only orphaned but completely alone. I feared the worse. I stopped letting my friends come to visit the apartment, I didn't let them see her fade away. I honestly thought that keeping it to myself would be easier than explaining to them what was happening to her. How she didn't even recognize my face, or how she thought I was dead, and believed it so much that she even had a panic attack at the sight of me. I couldn't explain how I left her pills by her bedside for before bed and in the morning. I started to worry that maybe life was getting too complicated and that I needed help, but now even more, I fear what the getting the help she needs would mean for her, if they took her out of tis apartment, out of the world she knows, she'd surely give up and day. Even if she's not really here, not really in my life anymore, I know having her in the apartment is more comforting than knowing she's dead. Besides, if she gets taken away, I won't have a place to stay, a place to live, and I am way too prideful to ever ask for help. I think back to when tore up my knee, and how I still wear the scars today. I was bed rested for weeks at a time, I missed so much school, and yet, I didn't get visiters from friends, and I knew why, I'd asked them not to stop by my apartment, ever under no circumstances. When I could walk again, I left the apartment, Johnny and Zac were closer than ever and that's when I started to feel the pressure of being the third wheel. I was always different than them, always more serious, I'd even say more responsible, but something about the way that they were after I saw them again, I have never gotten over. I turn over my paper, and try to clear my mind. this test is live or die. If i fail this test, I will be looking at returning to college algebra again next semester, something I cannot afford to do. Besides the fact that I hate math with a passion, but the grant I have is expecting me to pass each and every class. I look down at the paper and smile, I may hate math, but I put the time into studying that I needed to and I let my mind clear of all the useless shit that is floating around in there and focus on one thing and one thing only, this test, my future. BEHIND THE MASK ALEX | 23 | CENTRAL | BROWSING | MARKUS & ZAC  |
