Moon Adrift

June 21st, 2024

8:00 AM

The sound of the alarm would have roused anyone by now, but even after what felt like ten straight minutes of blaring next to my ear I just couldn’t muster the will to get up and go to class.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Groaning, I finally reach out an arm and slap the top to make it stop. Shuffling to stand I nearly slip on the ground where my sheets lay but manage to catch myself on the desk adjacent to the bed. All of this while my eyes are closed, and my face has taken on a foul grimace.

Ambling into the bathroom just a few steps away I turn on the sink and rub at my crusty eyes. My hair is matted and despite having just got up I already look dog tired. Today would have been a good day to skip class again, if not to just to get a few more hours of sleep, but this morning I’ve got an English midterm and if I miss it that might be the last straw with the school regarding my attendance.

It wouldn’t be the first warning…

As I brush my teeth begrudgingly the sight of the nearly spent tube of paste makes me close my eyes again. I don’t relish the idea of making a trip out to restock on necessities. Every day is the same. Just another reminder that I’m a fuck up. I hate going out there, where all that happens is I display myself for the world to gawk at.

It hasn’t all been bad, though. Spending half a year away from the folks back home gave me the chance to claim some peace and quiet, but once they find out how my college life went to shit I’m sure they’ll take it well…

Regardless, that’s a problem for another day. I turn my pants inside out, put on new underwear, and bring an arm up to smell at my pits before dressing up again.

Yup… Definitely need a new shirt, too.

Taking a shower is a pain in the ass, so I end up blowing more on laundry than on shampoo and soap, but it’s been over two weeks since I did either.

Putting on my worn coat, I grab the keys and a pen as I make to leave.

A dorm room costs a ton these days, but I’m not the one paying it. Mom and dad made like bandits back when they were my age but now the economy is so fucked that I can’t justify taking on a job that would pay me a fraction of what it would have paid my parents.

Times have changed. We have retards and psychopaths in charge of the world, and everyone is just going through the motions. The average person is so dumb they can’t agree on anything. Earlier in the year someone made a joke that I would shoot up the college, that I had that look about me. I chuckled wryly at it then, but thinking about it now actually makes me depressed. I know I’m an asshole, but I’m not evil. I just want to be left alone. Since I left the comfort of my room back at my parent’s place, I guess that’s just too much to ask for.

The walk to the main building on campus takes about 5 minutes. The hallways are empty most of the time, but unfortunately I have to pass through the cafeteria on my way. I try hard to look down and avoid as much attention as possible, but it happens anyway.

“Hey! Bishop! You’re out of your cave!” exclaims a voice far too excited for how early in the morning it is. Looking back at the girl trotting towards me, I internally roll my eyes. She stops in front of me and punches my shoulder lightly as if we’ve been friends since elementary school. I want to punch her back, but my idea behind it is a lot different than hers.

“Mornin’ Cordelia.” I reply somewhat flatly. Her smile makes me frustrated. It’s as if she doesn’t read my body-language on purpose, which pisses me off.

“You ready for the exam? I didn’t study at all, ha-ha.” she says, swaying her hips with her arms behind her back. What the fuck does she want from me? I seriously don’t get it.

“Did you need something?” I ask her pointedly. I’m not sure how tense the look on my face is, but I’m trying to give off the hint that I’m busy and not in the mood for conversation.

She bites her lip for a moment before asking me the stupidest thing ever. “Wanna come to the afterschool party? Me and a couple of others are going tonight. There’ll be beer and stuff. It should be fun! Come on, let’s get you out more, okay?”

In all my 20 years of life I’ve never been to a party, I’ve never had a sleepover, and I’ve never kissed a girl. I’m not in a rush to change any of that. I get what she wants. I’m the loner who doesn’t talk to anyone, and she either feels sorry for me or she would find it a great personal victory to get me to pretend I’m having fun. The truth is, I don’t want anything to do with Cordelia Mason, and I can tell her friend group finds it a mutual sentiment as I look over at them behind her sitting on the table she just came from.

None of the girls are looking at me. Their phones are more interesting. The guys don’t smile or nod or nothing. Quite the contrary– I can see a scowl forming on one of their faces. The unspoken words are clear enough to me.

Fuck off

“Nah. I have plans tonight anyway. See you at the exam.” I lie and begin walking away before she can object. There’s a muffled sigh behind me. I know she’s disappointed, but that’s not my problem. If I did go the only thing I could count on is that I’d be suffering the whole time. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. And I would get jabbed for it.

Imagine that. My biggest crime is being a loner, but apparently that would be okay if I smoked dope all day like some kind of addict.

No, thank you.

***

June 21st, 2024

11:32 AM

Locking the door behind me I throw my keys on the desk and plop on my bed. The test went about as good as I thought it would, which means I likely failed. Not that I’m torn up about it or anything. I didn’t even study. The important thing now is avoiding a call from my folks.

Turning on my PC, I decide to play some video games. I haven’t had fun playing anything for months now, but it is a time killer. As I’m about to pick up the controller I hear something that catches me by surprise. The sound of my cellphone receiving a call. Bringing it up I see who’s calling and can’t help but curse. “Hey pops. How’s it going?”

“Bishop. How’s school? How are things on your end?” dad asks me.

“Oh, you know. Same as usual. I just got back from an exam but I don’t think it went very well.”

There’s a pause before my father speaks again. “… Did you study? Are you passing your courses?”

Here we go again… “Uh… Actually, things aren’t the best right now. I don’t think I’m cut out for this to tell you the truth.”

I know what’s going to happen. He’s going to get all mad and start calling me a dumbass. I’ve heard it all before. Dad is all bark and no bite. “What do you mean? You’re failing?” dad asks, an edge to his voice now.

“I don’t know, but that might be the case. Besides, what am I even supposed to do with a history degree? I don’t see myself becoming a teacher.”

I can hear him getting ready to lay it on me. He’s working himself up huffing and puffing his chest and probably clenching his teeth right now. I couldn’t care less.

“… Okay.”

Wait, what?

“Okay, son.” he tells me, no anger in his voice but what sounds like resignation. I’m relieved for just a moment before he crushes my expectations. “I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but we’re done. I can’t help you for as much as I try.”

A shiver goes down my spine, and I’m not sure why. He explains it to me in a way I can’t misinterpret. “Your mother and I aren’t wasting another cent on you. Once your semester is done you’re on your own. I’d look for a job if I were-“

“Woah, come on dad, there’s no need for that!” I try cutting him off, but he continues as if he hadn’t heard me. “-you. Bishop Browne, you’re a grown ass man. That means you’ve got adult responsibilities to take care of, and if you can’t handle that, then that’s on you. Not us.”

I want to scream at him and tell him to fuck off, but then I realize something. Mom wouldn’t let him get away with this kind of shit. I hang up on the geezer and dial her number. She picks up before the 2nd beep.

“Mom! Listen, dad’s acting cra-“ but she cuts me off. “No. I’m not going to let you have your way this time. Bishop, you’re old enough to take care of yourself. I’m sorry, but we’ve tried to help you and you keep running away. I know you’re hurting about what happened to him… but you have to move on now.”

There’s a sharp jolt of pain running across my chest for an instant before I realize what’s likely happening right now. They’re both trying to scare me straight. I’m certain of it.

“They’re hiring at the local café shop, maybe you shou-“

Hanging up on mom before she could finish, I’m stunned at their audacity. It feels as though they just threw cold water on my face, leaving me with a nasty scowl. They don’t give a fuck about how I feel. Did they ever?

Sitting there on the chair in front of my desk with my monitor turned on, looking at nothing, it had been a while since I felt this alone. But I guess I should have expected this day would come.

How dare they go there? To just bring that up as some kind of leverage…

I could feel warmth slipping down my face. Usually, our fights end up unresolved. Just more bitter memories to share in our dysfunctional family.

That’s not what makes me leak… I get what she means, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Excuses are all that come out of my mouth. I lie or gaslight to get my way. I sidestep responsibility. And worst of all, I feel no urge or desire to change. Maybe I hate myself. Maybe I hate the world I’ve been born into. Maybe I just want to die.

They know why I feel this way, but we all pretend to ignore it because it’s easier. The hurt is less brutal. Yet, as I hear the cellphone’s messages pinging out constantly from what is clearly my folks trying to get me to give it up before hurling a few more insults about my immaturity, I don’t bother picking up.

Most people might do it. They might accept they’re done being lazy and just get on with their lives, but I’m too stubborn. Instead, I go to my bank account and see how much I’ve got left to work with.

On the account it says I’ve got close to $554. That might be enough for some people to move to a different state and start fresh, but I couldn’t pull that off.

It’s not even noon yet and I already feel that hollow aching in my chest that usually comes around every few days to remind me I’m just stalling for time. When I was a teenager, I used to play video games all day long with a friend. Before I knew it, morning turned to night. As I pick up the controller and try to imagine those days again, I want to burst out screaming, but somehow I don’t have the energy for it.

Booting up a zombie game to mindlessly occupy myself, I just sit there on my chair looking like one of the things I’m shooting in the head. I have bags under my eyes, my mouth is slightly ajar, and my breathing sounds irregular. After who knows how long, I notice the room is getting darker from the sun leaving the horizon. I move to lay on my bed without even turning anything off. If monsters were hiding under the wooden frame, I would genuinely ask them to grab my legs and pull me under.

It’s days like these that make me realize I don’t need nightmares. I’m already living one. The tears that flow down my face to wet my pillow come without so much as a whimper. I don’t have it in me to make it known how much pain I am in. What would even happen? Nothing. Nobody is listening, and even if they were, they wouldn’t do a thing.

I’ll be on my own for the rest of my worthless life.