Going Into That Everlasting Dreamland

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
After certain events, a young man leaves behind a suicide letter.

A work of fiction, based on true events.

Submitted: July 18, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 18, 2011



Are you crying yet?

So, I take it you found me. Or what’s left of me, that is. I didn’t mean to make such a mess; I hope you know that. It just happens sometimes.

Well, I don’t quite know what to tell ya. I could go on and on, spouting off cliché bullshit like a melodramatic emo fag. Or I could pour out my heart and soul in hopes to find a kindred spirit amongst those I leave behind. Or I could just tell you about what went on before I painted the wall.

I guess we’ll start with last week.

I was going through some email, checking my accounts as I normally do, and decided to sweep through the band’s spam. As I dug through the Viagra ads and messages from alleged Nigerian princes, I noticed something odd: someone was using the account for a texting app on their iPod. I looked through them and found this out: Erik was cheating on Mindy with the bloated whore we know as Brittany.

Initially, I wanted to out him right away. Why didn’t I? Because I’m a selfish bastard, that’s why. If I had let loose this information, Mindy would wind up back at our house with her two brats and Erik would be free of his burdens. It’s selfish because I don’t want those fuckers to ever come back here ever again.

I guess that had nothing to do with this. It just pissed me off.

Cassie came by a couple days later. Do you remember her? She’s the girl from Chicago. Yeah, you remember now. Well, we had a good time. We walked around town a little bit, catching up mostly. We looped back around to the house, and I told her the story of the night I fell in love with her. She thought it was cute, but I knew she wasn’t all too comfortable with it. Yeah, she kinda liked me back then, but she went back to the Windy City to her boyfriend. He cheated on her while she was away, but apparently that wasn’t enough for her to leave him. Fucking bastard. I hope he gets caught in a fire, gets severe burns, and then gets hit by a bus the minute they let him out of the hospital. Then he gets mauled by a large rabid dog while he’s still conscious.

Sorry. Got a little off track there.

I mourned that night like I normally do: put on my headphones, play the most depressing songs I have, and curl up under the covers of my bed. I felt okay by the time I woke up the next day, but the sting remained. I guess it never went away, not since that night we lay together in my bed three years ago.

Things were okay until John’s party. Even then, things were okay most of the time. I mean, I’m used to him and Susanna making out in front of everyone by now, whether it’s just a quick kiss or full-on snogging. (Haha… Harry Potter reference… kinda…)

No, things started going downhill when all the other guys, except maybe John and Will, started hitting on Cheyenne. Do you remember her? She was the one with dreadlocks. Yeah, you remember now. Well, it seemed like she went along with it all. While this didn’t particularly bother me, the fact that they were all trying so hard made those low notes kick in. They were faint, though, so I dismissed them.

The crescendo grew during the next few hours, and I wasn’t able to get rid of the low notes. So, while there was a party going on downstairs, I was up in my room. It’s not that I didn’t wanna be around them, it’s not. I just needed a break from the kissing couples and all the drunken flirting. Had the latter been with me, I would’ve hung out a little longer. But it wasn’t, so the low notes kicked in.

I did what I normally do when I can’t get rid of the low notes: put on my headphones, play the most depressing songs I have, and curl up under the covers of my bed.

Of course, a little bit of inspiration sparked, so I set to work for a little while. I ended up starting something I didn’t expect; I even got a couple pages into it. But Alex came up and told me I had to watch the party, because some of the guys had to go out on an expedition. It turns out Cheyenne had a little too much and decided to wander around the block. Normally, I wouldn’t give two shits, but I was on a roll with this new story, and I didn’t want to stop. But I really didn’t have that much of a choice. I took a break from my work and proceeded to oversee the party.

Things had definitely calmed down since I broke away. Of course, everyone was a little tipsier, some obviously more than others. I didn’t mind it as much as before; everyone seemed to be keeping it in their pants.

I hung outside with Woody for awhile; he was talking about starting a book. I didn’t really care, but more power to the kid. If he wants to write a book, then he should write a goddamn book. It was a little funny how he came to me for advice. Yeah, I’m a writer, but I haven’t really done anything significant.

Anyways, we were talking, and then John and Susanna came out, and somehow we ended up talking about religion. Woody left, Jody took his place, and I played Sweden or Switzerland. I didn’t say anything while John went on with his diatribe.

Eventually, another expedition was scheduled to find Ark and Cal. They had gone on a walk to talk about personal shit. Again, I didn’t really care. Sure, they were drunk, but they knew how to take care of themselves. I stayed behind, because someone had to. It was Eric’s turn to flirt with Cheyenne, and he seemed to be laying it on thick.

It wasn’t long before everyone was back. And that’s when shit really hit the fan.

Ark took over for Eric, even though he wasn’t quite done yet. I sat and watched the whole thing, because there was no good chance to slip back to my room. Before I knew it, four o’clock rolled around, and it was time for everyone to go to bed. Why everyone decided that this was the perfect time to pass out, I don’t know. Maybe it was some silent consensus.

I took my chance and went upstairs to my room. Of course, people followed. At first, I didn’t mind Ark, Eric, and Cheyenne sharing my bed while I worked. Their banter was actually entertaining most of the time. But then Woody came up, plopped down next to me, and started his attempt to write. He even shoved his notebook in front of me so I could go over what he had so far. Again, I didn’t really give a fuck, but I looked it over anyways because it would have been rude otherwise.

Eric left, leaving Ark and Cheyenne in my bed. As much as I like the two of them, I didn’t trust them. I mean, two drunk and sleepy teens, a bed, and all the flirting they’d done… yeah, it wasn’t hard to see where it would lead. They didn’t start fucking, so I’m grateful for that, but they both have significant others. Was their judgment that clouded? Fuck…

So, as they lay in my bed spooning, I started to think about how much I wished I was in Ark’s place. I wanted to be the one pressed up against the body of a beautiful young woman. I wanted to be the one who came up with cool remarks on the spot. I wanted to be the one who had someone to love for a change. I wanted to be the one who was happy. I wanted to be the one.

I started thinking about how much I missed Cassie, even if she didn’t like me that way anymore. I started thinking about how if I wasn’t so chicken shit, I’d do anything for her to love me the way I love her. I started thinking about the Fates, and how they weaved a web of loneliness for me. I started thinking about how long it would be until I met someone who would look beyond the exterior of the Glutton and see the compassionate kid that yearned to love and be loved in return.

And then the low notes kicked in.

Although I could put on my headphones and play the most depressing songs I have, I couldn’t curl up under the covers of my bed. The process doesn’t work as efficiently without that last step. Instead, I was forced to stay at my desk, and just have the music play. Of course, I didn’t start to feel better. The low notes swelled and filled me.

All I wanted was to love and be loved in return, like in Moulin Rouge. Except the girl doesn’t die in the end, and we live happily ever after.

Of course, I can’t have that. I know I can’t. What good-looking girl wants a whale for a boyfriend? Well, other than other whales. I’m not into my own kind, despite what some assume.

So I couldn’t take the deafening low notes anymore. I finally shut them out by playing even louder music and painting my wall with the prettiest colors I had.

Are you crying yet?


© Copyright 2017 Tyler Gohde. All rights reserved.

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