[FIC] Innuendos of time

Title: Innuendos of time
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 919
Summary: I guess that was the breaking point. Or maybe we were never whole to begin with.
A/N: At certain occasions I brush through my files and find a file with a name I don't recognise. Very rarely it happens that when I open that file I open up a treasure, and this fic was much like that. Written when I had just come home from my holiday in July, based on personal experience and complete fantasy.

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I came home one day to the sound of my world crashing down on me and I remember not having a single clue what was going on. It was then that I started becoming like this – so weak.

High school means a few years of trying to make it to the top of the people at the bottom of society. Some say the beggars and the ones without money are the bottom, but I firmly disagree. After all… What value does a high school student hold? What value do money and prestige have in the corrupt system of the judging high school kids?

It’s amusing sometimes, looking at how ridiculously happy people get when they receive the support and love of their family. How they are all so contented with the emotions of love shared in their family. And here I am having a father who loves me so much he would ruin – already has ruined - himself for his children yet I don’t even know how to look at him.

But there’s not much I can do about it, really. It’s his decision if he wants to pass out several times in a day because he drinks too much. His decision if he wants to forget things I told him five times and complain that he’s getting old, when really all he ever gets is drunk – every single day.

Sometimes you can see the world coming to a halt and you realise just what exactly it is that’s really important to you. That might have been one of those moments for me. I realised I had nothing left.

My family is not close to my heart. My family is some people who happen to live in the same house I do, thereby ruining any homey feeling it might have held for me. My family is tiny pieces of conversation amounting to nothing mixed with disappointment, disapproval and a constantly present one-sided desire to make everything more normal. But we were never normal and we will never be either.

We gave up our chance on normality when we secluded ourselves with our own computers, our own tiny islands of life away from each other. Each for our own personal reasons that made some sort of sense to us at the time. But I guess that was the breaking point. Or maybe we were never whole to begin with.

I came home one day to three words that shook me so thoroughly I have never been able to erase them from my mind after that and I remember crying more than I had in the past. I cried even more in the years that followed.

Growing up is not so much a process as it is a battle. Trying to figure out how to become older while still being young. Teenagers are the most misunderstood and misunderstanding people there are in the world, struggling to get somewhere, be grownup while still locked up in the box labelled ‘youth’.

We all struggle to become something we feel we can be proud of, something others are proud of. But what we really need is to be someone we can be, someone we are, no complications attached. Because there’s no use trying to be something you’re not, in the end you’ll always be yourself once things really start to matter, and if they didn’t know you were like that by then, people will leave. Maybe only a few, maybe a lot, but there will always be people leaving.

Life is treacherous to those who play it fair and kind on those who play foul. There’s no limits to dishonesty, no boundaries to the evil that people tend to commit for ‘the greater good’. And what are we? Mere ants in the vastness of it all. An insignificant bunch of crawling, disgusting things.

Sometimes it takes only one second to realise you love something more than yourself and that you’d do anything to protect it, but usually it’s already too late by then. I came home one day to a declaration that tore my soul apart.

They told me once that maybe I was blaming my father for everything that happened. Up to now I still wonder if I do. I don’t feel like I blame him for the past, I just blame him for being him. Does that make it any less pitiable or wrong? I guess not. It certainly doesn’t ease my will to leave this place forever.

If anything I can say that life is no box of chocolates anymore to me. I know exactly what I’ll get, every single day over and over again, a repetition of a ritual that I have grown out of years ago. I have long grown up. I decided I was an adult long before my body showed signs of that. With a mind that works at lightning speed, but only comes up with the things that hurt most.

The memories run clear when I open the window and the wind blows into my face. It’s a cold reminder of the things I should have done. I’ve always wanted to be someone big and people tell me that I still have a whole life in front of me to become so, but I feel like I should’ve started becoming a few years ago and that it’s way too late for me by now. Yet I still don’t give up on trying, like a brainless fool. Or maybe I’m just bad with endings.

“Your mother died.”