Tattoos & Piercings

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:
“In a Darkened Room – Skid Row” ★
01:22 ━━━━●───── 04:16
ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ♡

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Michael left around eleven o’clock that Monday. Before he left I was telling him how Full Metal Jacket is my favorite movie because it’s really funny, well other than the whole bathroom scene. I also told him about DJ Mustard, my burmese python, only that was a lie–not me telling him, just that I had a snake. Right before he left I told him that he better follow me on instagram, he told me he had to go to rehab for twenty-eight days… I could wait.

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Then he left.

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Michael was gone and I was still there. Only I didn’t have time to mope because Abby was sad. They told her that she might not be able to go home today like she planned. Abby was my friend–I hate using that word because we only knew each other for a week but we bonded because we both went to the same college–so I had to comfort her. The only thing I could think as I walked her to my room so other people wouldn’t see her cry is that she had no reason to be upset. I thought it was stupid, she’d get to go home eventually. But I didn’t say that, I hugged her instead and told her that I’d act a fool so they’d be forced to give me the shot in my ass and she could make a run for it. See? I’m not a complete monster.

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I couldn’t be sad later because Griffin, the worker, was kinda cute… sadness scares men. I told him that I heard that only crazy people can work at a place like this and that people said I was crazy once. He probably thought I was crazy. I told Griffin about Michael, I even showed him my finished letter. He looked at Michael’s file; he definitely thought I was crazy. He replaced Michael in our game of spades–he wasn’t as good.

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I tried to be sad after dinner and called my mom to tell her about Michael. She didn’t pick up. So I walked over to this older guy, probably around fifty-three, who I had talked to before but whose name I couldn’t remember. He was Michael’s roommate. “Parents huh. They never pick up when you need them,” I just sat next to him not bothered enough to ask for an invitation. He was a punk when he was younger, not in a bad way, I also run in the alt scene, so he had a lot of tattoos and piercings. He told me about them, not that I asked–oh, I guess I know how you guys feel now–, I told him about mine as well… the ones under my shirt. He asked if I had soft hands then he snuck me into his room. After that I finally got to be sad about Michael.

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My belly button isn’t pierced by the way.

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