the warm beds of beginners

I am so fucking tired of hating myself. I just think of all the time I waste subconsciously digging around myself looking for shitty qualities. I don’t know why I do it. It’s not helpful to anyone, least of all myself. What’s interesting is, even now I’m criticizing myself. Even now, I continue to focus on what I hate, what I resent. And I hate hating myself! Shit. I wish living were easier. I wish I was born a panda or an otter… simply because they seem like they have more fun just being.

The joy is steep with sin…

In my house there is a hallway with an armoire-type-thing built into the wall. It has two cabinets, and three drawers under them.  Today, for no particular reason I discovered the contents of the bottom most drawer.

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Anyone know that song? What comes next?

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Alright, I have to write fast because there’s only 14% battery in my laptop. But I have to write what just happened to me. 

So I was at my friend Troy’s house in his bedroom in the basement. His parents were out partying it up… and we heard footsteps coming from upstairs. Troy said that it was his Mom because the sound was so light and his Mom’s a pretty tiny woman. So we thought that his parents had gotten home and we didn’t think anything of it. About 10 minutes later we heard the shrill creak of the door to the basement opening, and a long pause as the person who had opened the door stood at the top of the stairs, listening I can imagine. We heard them slowly make their way step by step softly down the stairs. Troy’s house is pretty old and each step creaked under the added weight. We looked at each other, wondering why his Mom or Dad wasn’t saying anything to let us know they were home like they normally did. Suddenly we heard a loud clicking sound coming from the next room over and we immediately froze. I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening but Troy and I both were listening intently. I rushed over to the door and closed it, while quietly giggling— I didn’t believe that this was happening. We had just been talking about horror movies a few minutes before, and how scary it would be to experience that. No one said a word, including whoever it was that was outside the room. We watched the light under the door as the person passed the door to the room we were in, and then passed back over. Troy and I couldn’t seem to control our breathing. He grabbed a hammer that was sitting on his desk and I scrambled around, looking for some sort of weapon. I found a tennis racket. I though my heart was going to stop. I wasn’t laughing anymore. I was the most scared I’ve ever been in my life— certainly more than I had been watching any movie or reading any book. We watched as the light disappeared on the other side of the doorway, and we heard the footsteps retreating back up the stairs. Troy spoke, his voice shaking. “Do you want to go out my bedroom window? I’m actually terrified.” I nodded in agreement and we both made out way to the window. When we were outside Troy called the police. The lights that had previously been on on the first floor had also been turned off. I was waiting to see a figure appear in the windows, or another light turn off. Troy was talking to the Police Dispatcher on the phone. We were both out of breath despite not having done much physical activity. We ran to the neighbors and the police arrived within 5 minutes, even though at the time it felt like 15. They kept asking “Are you sure it’s not your parents?” Troy insisted that it was not. And I was certain it wasn’t also. After 5 more minutes of circling the yard a few times one of the policeman said, “Call the house just to make sure it’s not your parents.” Troy obliged. “Hello? Who is this?” I could hear the feint answer on the other end, “Collin, who’s this?” I saw Troy’s face fall. It was his father on the line.

Of course it would happen that way. We talked about how it would have been such a bad ass story if there actually had been someone in the house. Too bad. 

I have never been more scared. Truly. But it’s nice to know how I react in those situations. It’s nice to know what to expect, I suppose. 

I’m sorry this is so rushed, I’ll do better next time, but I just had to write.

I’ll try not to hold anything back. 

I hope this helps me in some way. I guess that’s all I want from this, It doesn’t matter if people read this or not. I doubt anyone will. I’m one out of a million people just like myself. But it’s me. So. Here goes: