"Do You Have A Lifestory, Jimmy?", chapter 9
Apathetically, I browsed through the photos. I couldn't understand what I really saw, my mind was too absent.
I gave it up. Sat down on the stool in front of the old desk. I opened the window and let the lukewarm wind stream over me.
It usually made me feel alive, but things had changed.
Ten years ago, a nine years old, happy boy would have sitting here, breathing the free air.
But now... here sat a breakdown. A depressed, nineteen-year-old who still hadn't found himself. A misfit - no matter where he would turn.
Come back, a voice in my head suddenly begged. I wish you were here. I wish no things like this ever had happened.
I leaned my head on the window. The prisonhole.
I had to try once again.
Determined, I stood up on the desk. It whined underneath me. Then, I started climbing down the brick wall. The last way, I just fell down. Didn't care about the pain that spread through the whole arm.
I kept walking. Five mechanical minutes later I had reached Starbucks. The old, happy murmur in there had turned into something else. Something scary, frightening and full of horror.
Like paranoid, I quickly bought a cup of coffee and then ran all the way home.
I should really be doing something else right now, the voice in my head roared. With shaking hands, I drank a gulp of the coffee. It tasted like shit.
In my whole, entire life I had never felt so alone.
I was so lonely I felt haunted as fast as being watched.
I was so lonely I could only hear the voices in my head.
Nobody cares, my mind stated. Nobody cares, does anyone care if nobody cares?
I drank the last of my coffee and sneaked out to the bathroom. Stared into the mirror.
Something paranoid stared back. A creep, it thundered through my head.
I put on the water tap. Let the water rinse my cover off.
Kill Jimmy. Kill Jimmy.
The eyeliner streamed down my cheeks. I looked like a sad clown. In despair, I groped for a scissors in the uppermost drawer.
The wet wisps of my hair danced down to the floor.
KILL JIMMY.
Was he dead yet? Did I kill him? Did I hurt him at all?
I grabbed a towel and dried my face and the remains of my straggling hair.
And then time for prison again. Or was it my shelter?
As collapsing down on my bed, all exhausted, I knew that things had changed.
Jimmy was really dead. Jesus of Suburbia was dead. The truth about Jimmy remained. The weak truth about a silly teenager who had lost it all. Left. All alone.
Maybe she was right about everything. That we were just products. And that... I swallowed. That was the hardest her words ever had punched me. Nobody likes you.
***
It kept pound through my head. But she had been right.
Nobody likes you,
Everyone left you,
They're all out without you,
Havin' fun.
It was so pathetic. What was I waiting for? There was no point in wasting time sitting on a shitty bed. There was no point in waiting, staring out of the window or thinking back to another time. There was no meaning in yearning for getting something back. There was no point in dreams or hopes. Neither in reality.
But I couldn't stop waiting for her. Somehow, I couldn't lose the small, silly hope inside. She could come back. Anytime. All I needed was a little patience, I persuaded myself.
I rubbed my sleepy eyes, starting to feel a little dizzy.
"Nobody likes you", I mumbled, before falling down on the bed, asleep.
I gave it up. Sat down on the stool in front of the old desk. I opened the window and let the lukewarm wind stream over me.
It usually made me feel alive, but things had changed.
Ten years ago, a nine years old, happy boy would have sitting here, breathing the free air.
But now... here sat a breakdown. A depressed, nineteen-year-old who still hadn't found himself. A misfit - no matter where he would turn.
Come back, a voice in my head suddenly begged. I wish you were here. I wish no things like this ever had happened.
I leaned my head on the window. The prisonhole.
I had to try once again.
Determined, I stood up on the desk. It whined underneath me. Then, I started climbing down the brick wall. The last way, I just fell down. Didn't care about the pain that spread through the whole arm.
I kept walking. Five mechanical minutes later I had reached Starbucks. The old, happy murmur in there had turned into something else. Something scary, frightening and full of horror.
Like paranoid, I quickly bought a cup of coffee and then ran all the way home.
I should really be doing something else right now, the voice in my head roared. With shaking hands, I drank a gulp of the coffee. It tasted like shit.
In my whole, entire life I had never felt so alone.
I was so lonely I felt haunted as fast as being watched.
I was so lonely I could only hear the voices in my head.
Nobody cares, my mind stated. Nobody cares, does anyone care if nobody cares?
I drank the last of my coffee and sneaked out to the bathroom. Stared into the mirror.
Something paranoid stared back. A creep, it thundered through my head.
I put on the water tap. Let the water rinse my cover off.
Kill Jimmy. Kill Jimmy.
The eyeliner streamed down my cheeks. I looked like a sad clown. In despair, I groped for a scissors in the uppermost drawer.
The wet wisps of my hair danced down to the floor.
KILL JIMMY.
Was he dead yet? Did I kill him? Did I hurt him at all?
I grabbed a towel and dried my face and the remains of my straggling hair.
And then time for prison again. Or was it my shelter?
As collapsing down on my bed, all exhausted, I knew that things had changed.
Jimmy was really dead. Jesus of Suburbia was dead. The truth about Jimmy remained. The weak truth about a silly teenager who had lost it all. Left. All alone.
Maybe she was right about everything. That we were just products. And that... I swallowed. That was the hardest her words ever had punched me. Nobody likes you.
***
It kept pound through my head. But she had been right.
Nobody likes you,
Everyone left you,
They're all out without you,
Havin' fun.
It was so pathetic. What was I waiting for? There was no point in wasting time sitting on a shitty bed. There was no point in waiting, staring out of the window or thinking back to another time. There was no meaning in yearning for getting something back. There was no point in dreams or hopes. Neither in reality.
But I couldn't stop waiting for her. Somehow, I couldn't lose the small, silly hope inside. She could come back. Anytime. All I needed was a little patience, I persuaded myself.
I rubbed my sleepy eyes, starting to feel a little dizzy.
"Nobody likes you", I mumbled, before falling down on the bed, asleep.
