"I'm about this close to literally punching you in the face right now," I warned. "This. Fucking. Close." I said, putting emphasis on my words.
"Really, with the whole violence thing, Willie?" He said, squinting his eyebrows at me, making it seem like his pupils were trying vacuum the small amount of freckles off of his cheeks.
"This," I said, feeling the glorious anger build up in my chest, "Is not the way you fucking apologize to someone!" I hollered at the top of my lungs, instantly feeling my throat become sore.
I was causing a scene; yet, I didn't give a damn. We were at Olive Garden, and the family of five next to use with the screaming kids were actually silent for once.
Actually, now that I realized it, so was the rest of the restaurant. Even the busser that dropped the stack of pasta stained plates on the floor stopped mid-kneel to give me a cautious look.
My fingers, I now realized, were clenching the red tablecloth that (obviously) was covering the table. I had stood up from my seat in a fit of rage, slowly bending my knees straight as each little vein pumped adrenaline into my system from the rage I felt building up from Tommy's ridiculous statements.
"I was busy," He said, his eyes never leaving mine. He wasn't even affected by my outburst; he was used to me by now.
"We were all busy. And we knew that you probably wouldn't have the money or even want to be bothered by us."
I wanted to forgive him and the rest of my shithead "friends", I really did in that moment.
But I just couldn't. What type of friends doesn't make contact with you (besides one measly freaking Facebook status) during the summer right before college? I'll tell you what type of friends do that:
My eyes momentarily closed, and my grip loosened on the table. My teeth scraped against my bottom lip as I resisted the urge to bite it, and the letter of the first word I was about to say slipped through my lips.
"FUCK YOU," I settled, ignoring the desire to give a heartfelt apology. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was letting out a heaving groan and bending my knees as I dipped and threw the entire table to the side.
There were a few that let out a few gasps, and even a newborn baby started to cry. But I didn't give a care in the world.
After all, it was my supposed "friends" that were supposed to help me contain my outrageous anger fueled outbursts.
Letting out a sigh, since the throwing of the table helped me get out of some of my lividness, I ran my fingers through my hair and took off my black plastic headband.
For some odd, dramatic effect that I wasn't even planning on executing out, I simply took the headband out of my hair, leaned in towards Tommy, and snapped the headband in half, right in front of his face.
It wasn't until I had done the deed I realized why it felt so empowering - he was the one who had bought me the damn thing in the first place.
"You pick up the fucking check." I muttered before flipping him off with both middle fingers and sauntering out the front door.
"Have you talked to Tommy, or any other of your friends for the matter, since this incident?" Dr. Elroy, my therapist asked me.
Yes, therapist. Although they aren't all for crazy people, it just so turns out that I'm crazy and need one because of it.
I had told him about my little outburst at Olive Garden - which I was then told that I would be suspended from returning back to the restaurant until further notice.
Personally, I didn't care about it. I didn't even like pasta anyway. Too many fucking carbs.
"Fuck no!" I exclaimed, propping myself on my elbows against the couch as I took out a cigarette to light. Originally, when I was a teenager, I started smoking to lose weight. I eventually did, with the help of cigarettes.
I know - a terrible way to lose weight, but I felt like it was my only option. Eventually, I did lose the weight and I have been keeping it off, but I still smoke from time to time.
Especially when I have to deal with fuckheads like Tommy and the rest of my bastard supposed friends.
"I see you've started smoking again," Dr. Elroy muttered, giving me a 'look'.
"Yup," I said, taking in a small puff. "I'm stressed, what can I do?" I didn't wait for him to answer as I said, "And don't even start with the whole yoga thing. All that downward dog shit is not for me."
"I won't bring it up, don't worry," He smirked.
"But what I am worried about is your outbursts. They've been happening more and more frequently," He observed, sounding genuinely worried. "What happened to you that you aren't telling me?"
Should I tell him the truth? I mean, it was his paying job for him to want to know how to help me, but then again, I could just sit here and bullshit through the hour and he would still get his paycheck.
Then again, I actually did like Dr. Elroy, and I wouldn't regret telling him what happened or anything like that.
"You know that guy I was in love with for a couple of months, but we couldn't get be together for obvious reasons, but we stayed friends because he didn't know that I even loved him in the first place?" I said nonchalantly.
"Of course." Dr. Elroy answered immediately.
"He's got a girlfriend." I said simply before dropping the cigarette out of my hand, and smushing it into the hardwood floor.
I wasn't being disrespectful or anything - Dr. Elroy had purposely made a small cut in the floor where his smoker patients could deposit their cigarette butts.
"And so, that just makes and amplifies everything to be even worse, right?" He asked.
"Of course." I said, putting my hands behind my head.
You see, that's what I liked about Dr. Elroy - he didn't bullshit. Any other doctor would have been like, "So, now you feel all depressed and shit and can't help but feel like a worthless piece of crap?"
Nope; Dr. Elroy just knows that instead of crying about it, or outwardly contemplating my life, I do all that on the inside. And instead, I get angry. And then depressed. Not sad and then depressed, like most people, I guess you could say.
"And you don't want to let go of the friendship, right?"
"Not in fucking hell," I sighed.
It wasn't my fault that I just suddenly decided that I would fall in love with one of my best friends (the actual, good kind of friend) - Harrison.
And it wasn't my fault, yet again, that the time, he was going through a lot of tough shit in his life that almost didn't make it seem worthwhile to him.
Because, like me, Harrison didn't outwardly project his feelings; he kept them all on the inside. And that's what made him so perfect.
He wasn't emotional like me, but the more I talked to him, he told me things that I knew he never told anyone else. Personally, I didn't feel the same way about him on those levels, but it made me want to connect with him. It made me want to have feelings, for once in my life.
Plus, he liked video games, so that helped a little. And we had a lot of the same interests, being writers and all.
But, of course, he had to be damaged goods - even more so like me, he was. The first girl he ever loved just smashed his heart to smithereens. She decided that she was bisexual and just up and left him out of nowhere.
And when I say she "decided" that she was bisexual, she told him that she was going to try being a polygamist with guys and girls. A bitch if I ever heard of one.
But Harrison still loved her, which I guess I could understand. And even though we connected on levels that I didn't even think was possible, we just still couldn't be together. Tragic, I tell you.
"H-he has a girlfriend?" Dr. Elroy suddenly repeated.
"Yup," I said, grateful that I wasn't or my period or otherwise I would have probably started crying right now.
"Just a rebound, he said, when he was telling me, for the sex. But from the way that he said she could play Halo…" That was all I needed to say.
She was going to perfect. She was going to me, but better looking. Better at first person shooters than I was, since I had always more or so stuck to the RPGs.
"Even though I waited for 90 fucking days with him," I cursed, trying to resist the urge to flip the small coffee table in front of me. "He just doesn't, care, really."
"Willie-," Dr. Elroy tried to cut in, looing worried.
"But what does it matter?" I said, not bothering to let him talk. "I don't care either. Right? I'm the loner with no friends."
The timer ticked off, alerting that my hour was up.
"I could reset it you know," He said, giving me a reassuring look and placing his hands in his lap. "Lunch doesn't taste all that bad in my office." He smirked.
"Thanks," I said, trying to muster up a smile, but it just ended up looking like a grimace. "But I don't want your place to smell like an ashtray."
"I'll see you in a week, Willie." He settled, momentarily stopping to shake my hand.
I walked out the room then, slinging my bag over my shoulder and passing by the female receptionist.
I didn't really know what I was - I had never dated a girl and I probably never would, but there was something beyond a pretty face that sometimes intrigued just the smallest 5% of me. But she was a pretty little thing, if I hadn't been so heartbroken just then.
"I need another fucking cigarette." I muttered as I walked out the door.
Don't say Bloody Mary three times in a row. I thought to myself later that night. It could be the end of you, you know - just even saying it in your head. You saw what happened on that one Supernatural episode.
Three freaking a.m. Besides having a bunch of so-called disorders, piled on top of ADHD, did I happen to mention that I'm a fucking insomniac? I couldn't get to sleep, and goddamn it, it had to do with Harrison.
To be honest, I hadn't cried in about five years. The last time I cried is when someone randomly started stabbing the shit out of my Mustang senior year. It scarred me for life, I tell you.
That's probably why I have a fondness for knives and swords by now, being my weapon of choice and all.
Fuck a bow and arrow if I were in the Hunger Games like Katniss. Nope, a machete or katana would do for me.
For the main part, I couldn't get to sleep because of Harrison. I just kept thinking about him. About how he just left me. Like the rest of my so-called friends. I thought of all people, he would be the one to stick around.
Remembering how I first found out how severely depressed he was, I decided to give up the fight with sleep. I sat up in my bed and turned on the T.V., not really paying attention to what was on.
I had gone over his house to hang out (which meant play video games and probably make out a little), but when I finally arrived, he was just sitting on the edge of his bed, not really saying anything. What was even more peculiar was that his mom had to let me in, instead of himself.
Again, he didn't really say anything. He didn't really look me in the eyes.
I was scared shitless. I mean, we just weren't naturally emotional people, and to see him experience an emotion so severely literally scared me.
I don't really know what is was that told me do so, but out of nowhere, I had shrugged off my little purse that slung over my shoulder, and without warning, wrapped my legs around his waist while he was still sitting, and hugged him.
I was surprised that he didn't curse me out and tell me to leave - like most people did when they were all depressed for whatever reason - he just hugged me back and put his face in the crook of my neck. And then he leaned back into the bed and we just laid there, while he cried a little bit into my chest.
If I'm being completely truthful, then I have to say that at first, yes, I was a little uncomfortable with the whole crying thing. But, I got used to it. And eventually he stopped, and we just went to sleep.
"Fucking hell," I said, putting yet another cigarette into my mouth. Feeling a sudden wave of tears build up in my eyes out of nowhere, I angrily rubbed them away with my palms.
I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to care. I mean, after all, that's what I did best - not care. But why did I just have to start caring about things like this? Why couldn't I let it bounce off my chest and then keep going on with my life?
"This makes no fucking sense!" I screamed, feeling my throat become sore again because of the strain I was causing for it.
Without realizing what I was doing, the whole Olive Garden fiasco was happening again as I gracelessly threw the end table next to my bed over to its side. My alarm clock, lamp, and the envelopes that were sitting on the table all crashed to the side.
My fingers gripped tight into my shoulder-length hair and I slumped to my knees, the cigarette still in my mouth long forgotten.
I didn't want to be depressed, or sad. But I didn't want to be completely emotionless either. I always felt so much rage…but at least it was better than nothing.
Yet, other times, I didn't even want have any emotions, and just being either mad or neutral was enough for me.
But, times like things? I felt like a rubber band ball waiting to just fucking explode.
Feeling hopeless, I sat the end table back up right and messily slapped the items that had fallen off it back on. The cigarette was still in my mouth surprisingly, and sitting on the edge of my bed (like I had found Harrison that day), I lit the cigarette.
It calmed me. And I didn't even care about the long-term side effects. It was selfish of me, in a way, I realized. But I figured if I kicked the habit soon enough in about a year or so, I would be fine. After all, I had only smoked for that one year during high school to lose all that weight.
As I was about to get up and drown my sorrows in chocolate cereal, there was a knock at the door.
I stepped back out from the kitchen, cigarette between my fingers. Who in the hell could be here - I took a quick glance to look at the clock - at one in the morning? I could be asleep, you know. Not everyone knows that I have insomnia.
"Who in the fuck is it?" I yelled, projecting my voice so whoever it was could hear my voice through the other side of the door.
"It's Tommy!" I heard him say, and I immediately felt the anger swell in my chest.
"And Madison, with Kristen!" Another voice said.
So, all the traitors have come back. I said sarcastically in my head.
A million images ran through my mind: me breaking them in half like toothpicks, me ripping off their faces, me, having to hide their bodies in a landfill…
But no, I decided against all of those ideas. I walked to the door and whipped it open, making it bang against the wall. Madison jumped from the sudden noise.
"Oh my god, Willie, we're so sorry." Kristen said, her bright orange hair popping brightly against the white wall behind her.
"We sent Tommy to try and explain," Madison said, giving me a saddened look.
I stood there, my hip cocked to the side with my arms crossed over my chest, cigarette hanging lopsided out of my mouth.
"Does it look like I care?" I spat, giving them the coldest stares I could muster at the time.
"Yes," Tommy said, side-stepping past me. Madison and Kristen followed in suit, but I didn't protest. I wanted to see them squirm underneath my gaze.
They deserved it, for being total shitheads to me.
What kind of friends since freshman year of high school don't talk to you for the entire summer before college? Who does shit like that? They were supposed to be my "friends".
I closed the door behind me by turning around to face them and slamming it with my foot.
"Make it quick," I said, walking up and sitting in the living chair a few feet away from my bed. "I need some fucking sleep."
"You started smoking again," Madison said softly, looking hurt. Her mother smoked, and she always felt strongly about someone else that did.
"I had to," I said simply, rolling my eyes.
"What for?" Kristen asked, raising her blue eyebrows at me. Yes, blue eyebrows. She dyed her hair literally almost every other week.
"Harrison's got a girlfriend," I said, twirling around in the chair, not really wanting to make an effort to have a conversation with them.
"What?" Madison gasped. "Holy shit! How did that happen?"
"Co-worker," I said simply, staring off at the wall and not meeting any of their gazes. "They just started dating."
"Are…are you sad?" Tommy said. He was the only one that knew about how close I was to Harrison.
"No, I'm not fucking sad," I growled, feeling angry that he would even begin to ask. I jumped up from my chair and poked an accusing finger at the three of them, since they were all sitting clumped on the bed.
"I'm fucking pissed!" I yelled, spitting the cigarette out and smashing underneath my bare toe. I sort of liked the burn, to be completely honest.
"Fucking pissed because he didn't give me a chance, and also, because I have dickhead friends like you!"
"Dude, we're sorry," Kristen said, her hand wrapped around Madison's shoulders. "We've said sorry a million times. We don't know what else to say. We were busy, plus we know how you don't like to be bothered sometimes."
I shook my head in disgust and rolled my eyes. Friends. I muttered in my head.
"You know what, I'm not even going to be angry anymore," I said simply, throwing my hands up in the air. "I'm just going to be done. Fucking done. Finito. Termina. Done."
"Don't be like this," Tommy pleaded, reaching out to touch my shoulder, but I immediately jerked away. Hands off the fucking merchandise. "We want to make it up to you."
I stopped and looked at him. Hope swelled in my eyes. In a tiny voice, I asked, "Really?"
"Yes, really!" Madison shouted, grabbing me by the hand.
"Well, then you know what would make me really happy?" I said quietly, meeting all of their gazes and squeezing Madison's hand back.
They all nodded eagerly, like they really actually gaze a shit about me.
"Well," I said, looking straight into Tommy's eyes, "If you guys could fuck off and leave me alone, I'd be the happiest bitch in the world!" I screamed.
My hands balled at my side and I swear, right then, I could have just slapped the taste out of Tommy's mouth. I really could. But there was some sort of small, inner force inside of me that made me stop, just in time.
"I'm just," I didn't even finish my sentence. I just turned away, walked into the kitchen, and sat down at the dining table to get away from them.
I could hear Madison start to tear up, and Kristen and Tommy tried to cheer her up. But I didn't care, I really didn't. I just wanted them to leave. I just wanted to feel numb again so I couldn't feel anything.
My phone started to ring. Incidentally, I had sat it on the kitchen table. I didn't really feel like talking, but curiosity got the best of me, so I slid the phone over so I could see who it was calling me so late at night.
"Wizard of the West?" I whispered, frowning at the call I.D. name. Who in the fuck was that?
Cautiously, I answered the phone and put it to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, Wizard of the East!" A voice, male, yelled from the other end of the line. "How's it going?"
"Who the hell is this?" I asked, not in the mood for playing games.
The guy laughed as he said, "It's Will! Will Natso."
Will Natso? I repeated my head. Who the fuck is…and then it all came rushing back to me.
Will Natso, or, 'The Wizard of the West', as I called him, was a guy that I originally met on YouTube.
I know, completely pedophilic-sounding.
But, anyways, he was this guy I met by commenting on this video called Wizard of the West. It was by the guy who made those Charlie the Unicorn videos. Anyways, we had this long ass conversation using puns and other quotes from the video.
He was hilarious. And he thought I was, too. We became friends on Skype and we Skyped at least five times a week. It was nice.
He lived in Ireland, and here I was in America, Illinois to be more specific. At the time, I was 16 and he was 18, so the thought of us being together in a romantic relationship wasn't something I thought of.
We started talking on the phone and stuff, and we became as close as anyone who met on the internet could be. But when he started to go to college, we didn't really talk all that much anymore since we were both busy - the excuse Madison, Kristen, and Tommy had given me, I realized.
"Oh my god, Wizard of the West!" I exclaimed, the anger inside of me dispelled, replaced with excitement. "I haven't talked to you in like…five months! Well, you know excluding a few e-mails." I said sheepishly.
"How have you been?" I said, almost jumping up and down with excitement. I loved Will. He was so awesome. Plus he was funny.
He's a British version of Harrison…a little voice in my head whispered, and instantly, I felt like a dumbass. Why did I have to go and say that?
"I've been great! In fact, I'm going to study in the U.S.!" He said.
"No way!" I yelled. "Where will you be going?"
"That's actually why I called," He said. "I know you live in Chicago and I'm going to Chicago State for the fall."
"Will!" I screamed, jumping out of the chair and literally bouncing on my toes against the linoleum flooring. "You're shitting me right now, aren't you? That is complete tosh!" I said.
"I'm not!" He protested, laughing. "A wizard wouldn't lie, you know that!"
"I know!" I said, a grin making my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "I'm going there in the fall, too. We'll be college buddies!"
"Which is sweet!" He said, making his voice go all high-pitched when he said the word.
"Actually, I was calling because I was wondering if you could pick me up from the airport? I wanted to catch up, and since I'm still on Ireland time, I didn't really want to go to sleep yet."
"No fucking problem!" I yelled, I was so happy. So excited. So pumped. "O'Hare or the Midway?" I asked, referring to which airport he was at.
"Nice," I complimented. "I'll be there in…" I glanced at the illuminated digital clock on the microwave. "Say, 20 minutes, Will."
"Dandy!" Will said. "I'll see you then."
I eagerly nodded and then we said good-bye. I sped into my room, not even pausing to see if Madison had stopped crying.
I shrugged on some denim shorts hurriedly, pulled on an Adventure Time shirt, and grabbed my keys from the bowl that I kept next to my T.V.
"D-Do you forgive us?" Madison whimpered.
I turned around from the door. Did I forgive them?
"I don't know," I shrugged, not really even stopping to think about it. I was too psyched to care about them at the moment.
I know; I was being a horrible friend. But they deserved it, since they did the same thing to me.
"Just get the fuck out of here," I decided, not looking over my shoulder as I opened the door. "I'll talk to you later or whatever."
I didn't have to look back to know that Madison had started crying again.