Goblin - Tyler, The Creator
I wake in my bed with my mother’s fingers pulling through my hair. Her fingers tangle through the strands slowly pulling. My father sleeps in the chair beside my bed. His snoring wakes me. She massages my head and hums softly as his nose rattles loudly in the background of the noise in my room. My cheek tickles and burns as it stretches. I pull a hand to it swiftly lifting from the bed. A band-aid rest on my cheek and I can feel it but, since when did we ever have band-aids? I wear one of my father’s massive shirts and its sprinkles with his stench. He smells of paper most of the time as a mask for his water cologne. My mother makes him wear it but I like his natural smell. The smell he makes when we go camping. We usually stay out in the wilderness for about 5 days and on the second day when that cologne is gone, he smells like my dad should always smell. My hair is tied back and pulled from my face by a head band. She looks to me and smiles but, again, the smile is fake and sickening.
"Why do you do it?" she asks. I roll my eyes from her to my father who leans against a sweater of mine. I wish he will get up soon because he looks annoying stretched out onto my things. "Is it something that we do?" she sighs as I ignore her pulling from bed looking down on my slashed up thighs. I think it’s completely fine, it’s actually a lot better than doing it to other people. "I don't understand." I stay silent wiping the sleep from my eyes. “And the drugs Penny, I didn’t think you were that type of kid.”
"Mom, why don't you just stop talking to me?" I groan. "I'm not suicidal or anything." That type of kid… I am not a kid. I am not a person. I’m usually just her imagination. She is such a fucking idiot.
"I'm going to call a therapist that you can see." I pull on a pair of shorts that sit in the middle of my floor. There are always things all over my floor because I never clean. I just never make things too dirty to withstand. There was always that one thing I’d pull out and I’d usually put it back. Maybe I’d put it back in the wrong spot but I’d definitely put it back. I walk out of my room and down the hallway into my brother’s room. I love being in his room. Perhaps it’s because it isn’t my room. He has this smell that excites me but it is also a stench. His is always dirty. Sometimes I just sit on his stairs hoping he will invite me inside but he never does. He just ignores me. His lights are down as I enter and the two sleep. Adam holds his hand over his face snoring gently stretched out on the ground. He is wrapped in this peachy cover that Ben’d stolen from my room. Ben lies in his bed stretched out with his hand on his chest. He sleeps like a fat man all of the time. I grab his radio and a stack of CDs and his cigarettes within their slumber. I always just listen to music on his stairs and I love his music. A beer can falls making its static like noise and Adam’s hand pops up. He looks up at me as I freeze then I bite my lip scrambling to catch everything. I decide to slowly tip toe over to his window. Maybe he would just doze back off and forget I was ever even here.
"You're gonna need the lighter." he tells me. His voice is so alive for someone who’s just woken up. I walk to him to grab the lighter from in between his two fingers. He lifts and slowly fluffs his shirt out pilling it from his sweaty skin. I go through the window only to be followed by him. He yawns and stretches then he sits beside me as I put a CD into the radio. I try to look cool while I pretend I’m all alone. He laughs as I pull a cigarette from the pack packing it into my mouth. I press play as he puts a stick into his mouth. The music starts and he laughs lighting his cigarette. He fiddles his long fingers to the beat and bobs his head but, I can tell he’s just trying to keep up with me. He’s actually very groggy and he could probably go for some more sleep. "Pantcie-Poo listens to this kind of music." he nudges me and mouths the words looking out onto our back yard.
"Could you stop calling me that?" he laughs and pulls his phone from his pocket. He puts it on the inside of the window. "What is wrong with you?" his smile grows. As I gulp in the smoke. It burns art the back of my throat and I try not to cough.
"I don't know." we sit still in silence listening to the music. If he didn’t come programmed with so many questions there would be nothing to talk about and it would make me feel totally sane with myself and I would be able to convince myself that I was absolutely fine with my life right now. If he wasn’t asking questions I would be able to think about possible options and the next action I am going to make with my family.
Isn't he a devil worshiper cause I'm to fucking ignorant to do some research?
We both mouth the words. He stops smiling and flicks the ash from the cigarette he holds in his hand. His train of thought changes and I scoff as he actually frowns.
"You seriously let me believe you didn't cut yourself." he adds softly. I look to him then to the cigarette. Why did he sound so betrayed? I am not friends with him and he won’t stop sighing. Yesterday is the first day he ever talked to me involuntarily. I groan thinking about it. He is actually the only person outside of my family that has talked to me in a really long time.
Here put this middle finger in your ear.
"You don't really matter to me." I scoff. He looks deeper out into the woods behind our house. He sighs again smoking more of his cigarette. I don’t know why but, his eye brows crunch up. This is the only time he wasn’t on drugs in my presence. I can tell by the way he scratches his head because, he doesn’t. He doesn’t do anything strange or twitch he’s just calm. He’s usually hyped up on something and the fact that he’s my brother’s smartest friend makes it strange.
I hate my fucking life... I sit in grandmother’s living room and pout and shout loud inside sometimes I just wanna die!
I look up to him as the song ends. He grabs the cigarette from my hand rough. I feel as though he’ll crunch it up in his hand. I rub the skin around my mouth.
"You don't smoke cigarettes." he hisses. I look from him as he puts it into his mouth. I groan as the smoke leaves his nose. I hate this. He is taunting more than be ever does, which is never. I turn the music up as he scoffs. "This whole time we were convinced you were on crack or something but you don't even know what the hell to do with drugs."
"Apparently you do." I scoff pulling the shorts further down from off of my belly button. He groans and wipes the sleep from his face. I crawl over my legs with my fingers.
"You don't even know me."
"Whatever, I came out here to listen to music." I whisper to myself. I don’t know why but I like being here, in this spot right now, with the cigarette that I’d recently had. It felt dirty against my lips. It made me feel grungy and it satisfied me with this strange excitement.
"Your taste in music sucks." he laughs. I ignore him making him hand me the cigarette. I take it pulling the smoke into my mouth. I blow it back out having him smile at me. "You look like your mom when you do that." I repeat it only looking from him. The other side of my house was always brighter.
"Why are you hanging out with me?" I ask. He clears his voice and he becomes less audible. I don’t really care why he’s here because it doesn’t matter why he’s here. What matters is that he leaves.
"I just don't want you to want to die or anything." He adds shyly. I look to him rolling my eyes to the clouds.
"And you really think hanging out with you will fix that?" I groan. His presence is a searing feeling in my heart.
"Hey, I can be so fun." he laughs. I nudge him pushing him away, his heavy body bounces back making my arms go slack as I shove him away.
"Calm down. I don't want you to bust a gut." I tell him. He laughs as I take in more smoke.
"So, you're implying that you're cooler than me?" he chuckles. Ne, he is cooler than me and that’s exactly why we will never be friends. I don’t even deserve friends and I never actually will.
"You act like a small child." I tell him sinking into the roof softly. I pull my hand above my eye to see deeper into the sky. Maybe I’ll be able to see the stars or something.
"That's what I'm supposed to do." he looks up then back over at me. "Can I see them?"
"See what, the stars?" I flick the cigarette to the ground. My eye brows try to raise but I never learned how to do that so I’m pretty sure I just look like that sun is shining too bright in my face.
"Your cuts." he whispers. I scoff and look from him. He sits in silent. I look at him and that same face is there. I shake my head looking to my right. "Oh come on. Why would that be a problem?" I look to him as his face darkens. I slowly count my options. I could refuse and he could do nothing at all and leave me alone. I could refuse and he could bother the hell out of me. I could show him and he could laugh at me. I could show him and he could leave me alone thinking I'm crazy. I slowly pull off my shorts looking to him sliding a hand over my left thigh. His eyes widen and he peers deeper into the cuts. I pull my leg from him and his eyes shift to mine. "Why did you do it?" he asks softly concern in his voice.
"I felt like it." I tell him. It’s like a painting of red lines. I think they’re beautiful, that my skin can create art better than I can myself.
"You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
"You were hurting yourself."
"It makes me feel better."
"Does anything bad come out of this for you?"
“If you're going to judge me then you can just leave me here. I know it’s disgusting you don’t have to tell me." I scold lifting from the shingles. I dust the dirt from my clothes.
"What do you mean it's disgusting?"
"My parents want me to get married and stuff but I like doing this and no one’s going to want to marry this." I laugh. My heart is pounding. My hand lifts on top of them. I would never get married and what will even happen if I do. I know that I’ll just marry some guy as unattractive in personality as me and we won’t ever actually love each other. We’ll just be in it all for the sex that we will have together and even that won’t be mutual sometimes. We won’t ever talk and we won’t ever actually get along. We will just have a child and raise it to be as strange us somehow.
"Why do you do them?" he repeats.
"I like to Adam." I add in roughly. I brush the hair from my shoulder groaning under my breath and just as I’m about to tell him to shut up and opens his mouth but he yawns and it totally throws me off because when he yawns he reminds me of someone that’s totally innocent to the world around them.
"Why would you say you weren't suicidal?" he asks. I clear my throat. Why did he keep asking questions? They were ever lasting. I hate questions especially ones about myself because then, I actually doubt whether or not I actually know myself.
"I'm afraid to die. I just like to free my body of the bad."
"I'm going to try it."
"Why can’t I?"
"You are a very happy child. There is absolutely no reason you need to. That's why the Purple Phase was written." he scoffs and rolls his eyes.
"What do you mean?" he asks skeptical of the whole issue at hand. I rub my leg feeling the pain shoot through me and I shy away from the spot.
"They can't feel sad because they don't deserve to feel sad. That's something that you have to earn." I run a finger over the cuts again then I look up to him. "Can I tell you something?" I ask. He nods "The sky plays out my emotions."
"The color of the sky matches me." he laughs.
"I am so confused."
"At least that’s the way I like to pretend things are." I stop rubbing the skin and I look to him. "When Melony hurts me, I feel as though the sky is turning grey."
"What color is the sky when you hang out with us?"
"It's usually blue." I look to him from the sky. It is a lot harder to imagine when you’re completely staring at your subject.
"Well that's nice." he hums. I pull my shorts back on. "Well, I should probably get going. My parents are going to want me to help at the store today." he lifts and the music gets louder in my mind. I sit listening to the soft sounds all alone as the sky turns this bubble gum pink color and I don’t know why but I do feel my cheeks explode.
© Copyright 2016 sneeding. All rights reserved.
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