God I’m so fucking starving but it’s Saturday and on Saturdays I don’t eat really much of anything aside from a protein shake after the Super Ab class at the gym and then half a lean cuisine before I go out but today I won’t be having the lean cuisine because during the ab class when we were doing that exercise where our legs were over our heads my shirt fell down a little bit and C--- whom I’ve never really cared for anyway but who has the most amazing six-pack I’ve ever seen and I seriously feel like I’m the only person I know who hasn’t gotten to sleep with him yet anyway he asked me some question about if I’d been keeping up on my cardio which I suppose I haven’t, which I suppose is sort of true because I could be running more at least every morning I tell myself I’m going to run before work but it’s just so fucking hard to get up that early you know? like on Wednesday morning after going out to the D--- on Tuesday because that’s really just what you do if you want to be anyone and I certainly want to be someone not like F---- or J--- or any of those people because I know my place and I know what I’m capable of and it’s certainly not that but I just want to be someone you know? Just someone and besides I got invited to the last two parties that J--- had even though I’ll admit that the first invite was actually forwarded to me by V--- who told me just to act cool and smile and pretend that I belong. And I did. Anyway that’s why I’m not having half of that lean cuisine tonight before I go out to H---- actually I’ll probably start drinking at B---‘s house because a) he’s always got Grey Goose vodka and b) he told me he just got some really good blow which I never really pictured myself doing when I was in fourth grade and in that drug education assembly I mean I actually remember sitting on the orange carpet looking at pictures of cocaine and listening to the policeman talk and thinking to myself “people from P----- don’t do that especially when they’ve been raised by good parents in good households and have great older brothers like mine” I do it every weekend now and I’ve done it once or twice during the week and honestly it’s not as big of a deal as I thought it was and besides it helps me get through to the after parties which usually start around 3:30am anyway and there’s no possible way that anyone could expect to make it that long into the night especially on Saturdays because they’ve got these cheap shots that taste like fruit punch at H---- and these super hot guys wearing briefs sell them but everyone says that the guys are straight and so fuck it whatever.
So like I said it’s Saturday and I’m starving but the abs are looking good, man, looking good, indeed see I’ve got this mirror that’s in my bathroom and when I turn these two lights on and these other three lights off they make my first four abs look really great like Men’s Health great so I usually only keep those two lights on in fact I can’t even remember the last time I turned the other three on and fuck, man, fuck, they look really great, and maybe this will be the night that I take C--- home even though I heard at the gym the other day that he was starting to hang out with N--- but I checked both of their profiles on MySpace and Friendster and it said they’re both single still so ha ha fingers crossed, right? Anyway if it’s not C--- then it’ll be someone else and if it’s not someone else it’ll be someone else because fuck like I said these abs are looking good and that’s something that they don’t tell you in the fourth grade when you’re sitting on the orange carpet: you don’t get a stomach like this without a little blow.
Rule #2: “Good Little Boys Know that Prada Makes Perfect”
It’s 9:00 and I’m still so fucking hungry and I’m sort of considering having half that lean cuisine but I told B--- that I’d be at his place by 9:30 because we want to get to H---- by 10:30 because that’s basically when the line is the longest but B--- has this card that lets you cut in front of everyone which gives you a chance to see who’s waiting in line and if any of them are worth trying to fuck and it also lets them all know that you’ve got one of those cards and that they don’t (even though I don’t have one but B--- is pretty good friends with the guy at the door and he just sort of lets me follow in behind B--- without putting up much of a fuss or anything) but right now I’m standing in front of the mirror staring at my abs and deciding what shirt I should be wearing tonight see I used to wear all of this Abercrombie shit but B--- told me that’s what twinks and kids from the Midwest wear and I’m neither and so he convinced me to buy this black button-down Prada that cost me half a month’s worth of pay from the public relations firm that I work at because, see, I’m only an assistant, but I went to a good school not ivy league but good so you know what I’m sure that I’ll earn the money back eventually at some point and anyway B--- bought the blow tonight so I don’t even have to think about spending money on that because that’s not the way B--- works he says that Colombian Gold (he’s always calling it that and I think it’s a bit obnoxious but I say it too because most people think that it just sounds smoother) should be stolen from the rich and given to the poor, which is something else I don’t know if I agree with because technically we’re both from upper-middle class communities in places that only have upper-middle class communities and the last time I checked the cocaine trade was and is the cause of many deaths of poor families and children and I remember I said that once to B--- after we had snorted a few lines before going to that parade last summer and he told me to shut up because the movements of international diplomacy aren’t predilections about whether we’re going to get laid or not but being able to offer some trick blow never hurt a guy’s chance in bed.
This shirt looks good under the two lights but not the three lights see under the two it outlines my pecs which have gotten bigger since last summer thank God and man I can’t believe I paid five-huno-fucking-dollars for the goddamned thing but honestly looking at it now it’s worth it it’s totally worth it under the dim light I can see this tiny patch of hair right below my adam’s apple that I forgot to shave off when I was trimming my chest this morning and I’m so fucking happy I caught it because honestly how trashy and weird does that look when you see that little patch because then you can tell that the guy doesn’t really know what he’s doing and sure I read in Out that chest hair is making a comeback but I’m going to wait until I see it on C--- before I make the decision to grow mine out because I’ve kept it trimmed ever since that guy I hooked up with in college, that one who was a swimmer with me but we weren’t out or anything, he told me I looked better without hair and I mean just look at like every magazine that’s out there and you’ll totally agree with me, it just looks better.
Five hundred bucks. Cinq cent dollars. So many fucking pesos that I don’t know if I’ll be able to make rent this month but it’s worth it worth it worth it worth it worth it.
This shirt looks good under the two lights but not the three lights see under the two it outlines my pecs which have gotten bigger since last summer thank God and man I can’t believe I paid five-huno-fucking-dollars for the goddamned thing but honestly looking at it now it’s worth it it’s totally worth it under the dim light I can see this tiny patch of hair right below my adam’s apple that I forgot to shave off when I was trimming my chest this morning and I’m so fucking happy I caught it because honestly how trashy and weird does that look when you see that little patch because then you can tell that the guy doesn’t really know what he’s doing and sure I read in Out that chest hair is making a comeback but I’m going to wait until I see it on C--- before I make the decision to grow mine out because I’ve kept it trimmed ever since that guy I hooked up with in college, that one who was a swimmer with me but we weren’t out or anything, he told me I looked better without hair and I mean just look at like every magazine that’s out there and you’ll totally agree with me, it just looks better.
Five hundred bucks. Cinq cent dollars. So many fucking pesos that I don’t know if I’ll be able to make rent this month but it’s worth it worth it worth it worth it worth it.
Rule #3: “Good little boys know to drink to the days that are gone in the shortest while”
So B---- pours me this drink that’s practically all Grey Goose and like no soda what-so-ever which let me tell you man is fine by me and he cuts a few lines on this little mirror he has and puts on this new Rhianna song that I swear I’ve heard every day for the past six months but B--- keeps telling me that this is some new re-mix of it and then he tells me to blow the lines fast and “not fucking spill any of it like last time” because C--- and some people are coming over to pre-game before we all go to H---- and he doesn’t really feel like sharing his Colombian Gold tonight and then I say something like “I swear to God I’m the only person in ---------- that hasn’t fucked C--- yet and B--- tells me I should get on that because honestly have you seen his fucking abs lately? And I tell him that yeah obviously I have he just posted this new picture of himself on MySpace that must’ve been taken at the beach this summer or something because he’s shirtless in it and is in this hot square-cut Burberry bathing suit and at this point my only condolence is that I think the guy’s sort of an idiot and didn’t go to a good school and doesn’t have an interesting job or anything but seriously those things are starting to matter less and less.
B--- finishes his drink and tells me to finish mine because he’s made me another and I’m glad that I haven’t eaten much today now because I’m starting to get drunk a lot easier than if I had had a bunch of carbs or something and then B--- asks me if I had heard that R---- had started dating someone, some newbie and I lie and say that I had heard that and that I didn’t really give a fuck and that R --- and I had broken up over six months ago but really I get this sort of lump in my throat that I try washing away with more vodka but it won’t leave and so I blow another half of a line and tell B--- that I need to use the bathroom and he says whatever and snorts up the remainder of the coke that’s still on the mirror and he reaches for a dime bag and cuts three more lines.
I don’t know how long I’m in the bathroom for but it isn’t more than a few minutes because all I do is piss and wash my hands and look at my pupils in the mirror and I try to remember how things were with R--- and if they were really different back then or if I had been lying to myself and they were really just the same as they are now and then I think about that day before Christmas when he left me and I cried on my brother’s shoulder back at home in P----- and how my brother had held my head in his hands and looked me in my eyes and told me that I was a damned good kid and that things would get better because – and I remember this part – because intrinsically humanity won’t end on such a tragedy and I cried and told him that that was beautiful and he laughed and told me it was from a song, and then I hear the door to B---‘s apartment open and I hear C----‘s voice and I stop thinking about R--- and my brother and I start thinking about C---‘s abs and how I’m the only person in ---- that hasn’t gotten to be with him yet and how I was going to go about changing that tonight and if I wasn’t able to would that make me less than? And then I walk out of the bathroom and C--- gives me this weak listless smile and I say hi and then I look at B--- and tell him that his nose is bleeding and he just sort of shrugs and says whatever and starts gumming the blow instead.
B--- finishes his drink and tells me to finish mine because he’s made me another and I’m glad that I haven’t eaten much today now because I’m starting to get drunk a lot easier than if I had had a bunch of carbs or something and then B--- asks me if I had heard that R---- had started dating someone, some newbie and I lie and say that I had heard that and that I didn’t really give a fuck and that R --- and I had broken up over six months ago but really I get this sort of lump in my throat that I try washing away with more vodka but it won’t leave and so I blow another half of a line and tell B--- that I need to use the bathroom and he says whatever and snorts up the remainder of the coke that’s still on the mirror and he reaches for a dime bag and cuts three more lines.
I don’t know how long I’m in the bathroom for but it isn’t more than a few minutes because all I do is piss and wash my hands and look at my pupils in the mirror and I try to remember how things were with R--- and if they were really different back then or if I had been lying to myself and they were really just the same as they are now and then I think about that day before Christmas when he left me and I cried on my brother’s shoulder back at home in P----- and how my brother had held my head in his hands and looked me in my eyes and told me that I was a damned good kid and that things would get better because – and I remember this part – because intrinsically humanity won’t end on such a tragedy and I cried and told him that that was beautiful and he laughed and told me it was from a song, and then I hear the door to B---‘s apartment open and I hear C----‘s voice and I stop thinking about R--- and my brother and I start thinking about C---‘s abs and how I’m the only person in ---- that hasn’t gotten to be with him yet and how I was going to go about changing that tonight and if I wasn’t able to would that make me less than? And then I walk out of the bathroom and C--- gives me this weak listless smile and I say hi and then I look at B--- and tell him that his nose is bleeding and he just sort of shrugs and says whatever and starts gumming the blow instead.
Rule #4: “Good little boys know that they only speak when spoken to”
So B---‘s plan for saving his coke doesn’t really work out because ten minutes after his nose starts bleeding he’s passing the dime bag around and C--- and his two friends are taking turns taking bumps off of keys. B--- makes more drinks and I can feel my heart racing faster and my mind working harder and the music’s switched to that new Britney Spears song that I don’t really like but C--- says it’s probably the best song of the year and I tell him he’s absolutely right and he laughs a little bit and starts tapping his foot and his leg brushes against mine and I can’t help but wonder what kind of taste someone has to have to think that this is the best song of the year but instead of saying anything I just keep nodding when he talks about how catchy the beat is and how Britney is making a comeback and that she was really just a piece of meat for the paparazzi and that’s what’s driven her to abandon her children and flash her clit and it’s honestly the fucking dumbest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say but he looks so goddamned hot saying it so I say something along the lines of “she’s sort of like Zelda Fitzgerald” and everyone stops and looks at me like I have a goddamned third arm coming out of my head and B--- just goes limp and shakes his head so I try to justify it and say “you know, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s wife, she went crazy.” And then C--- says something about how the last thing he read was an Us Weekly from a month ago and people say shit like “I hear that, girl.”
And so I don’t say anything else and I just drink my vodka instead and I’m kicking myself mentally for thinking that talking about books would impress C--- and I’m also kicking myself for wanting to impress C--- but the fact is that I do even though there’s not a goddamned thing that I’ve got in common with him aside from the fact that we both know that he’s gorgeous and that I want to sleep with him. Then his friend whose name I think is K--- but might be X--- starts talking about this guy he met on Manhunt last weekend and about a guy he met on Craigslist the weekend before that and how both of them had come over with some meth (which I’ve still never seen) and that they were pre-lubed, and I don’t really know for sure what “pre-lubed” means but I can make some pretty accurate assumptions and then someone but I can’t decipher who says “do you think Zelda Fitzgerald was pre-lubed?” and everyone laughs and someone says something like “if that bitch and I have anything in common she was” and then Rihanna’s “Umbrella” comes on and everyone agrees that this is probably the best song of the year and it goes on through the first chorus and everyone says “ella ella ella” like Rihanna does in the song until I finally say “she died.” People look at me like I’m crazy and C--- says that I’m thinking of Kanye’s mom and I tell him that no, no, no I’m talking about Zelda Fitzgerald and he says “oh” and then gives me the dime bag and I shrug and dig my key into it and take another bump and B--- orders everyone to finish our drinks by calling us “bitches” but X--- or K--- insists that we listen to Umbrella one more time so we do and C--- brushes against my leg again.
And so I don’t say anything else and I just drink my vodka instead and I’m kicking myself mentally for thinking that talking about books would impress C--- and I’m also kicking myself for wanting to impress C--- but the fact is that I do even though there’s not a goddamned thing that I’ve got in common with him aside from the fact that we both know that he’s gorgeous and that I want to sleep with him. Then his friend whose name I think is K--- but might be X--- starts talking about this guy he met on Manhunt last weekend and about a guy he met on Craigslist the weekend before that and how both of them had come over with some meth (which I’ve still never seen) and that they were pre-lubed, and I don’t really know for sure what “pre-lubed” means but I can make some pretty accurate assumptions and then someone but I can’t decipher who says “do you think Zelda Fitzgerald was pre-lubed?” and everyone laughs and someone says something like “if that bitch and I have anything in common she was” and then Rihanna’s “Umbrella” comes on and everyone agrees that this is probably the best song of the year and it goes on through the first chorus and everyone says “ella ella ella” like Rihanna does in the song until I finally say “she died.” People look at me like I’m crazy and C--- says that I’m thinking of Kanye’s mom and I tell him that no, no, no I’m talking about Zelda Fitzgerald and he says “oh” and then gives me the dime bag and I shrug and dig my key into it and take another bump and B--- orders everyone to finish our drinks by calling us “bitches” but X--- or K--- insists that we listen to Umbrella one more time so we do and C--- brushes against my leg again.
Rule #5: “Good little boys know there’s nothing more important than a first impression.”
We get to H---- and there’s this huge long line that I had expected but also, like I said, B--- has that card, and everyone knows C--- and so there’s no problem at all getting all of us in but before we do that I scan the line of guys outside and I recognize most of them because really at the end of the day everyone goes to the same places on the same night and the truth is I’ve slept with a few of them already and I’m sure that I’ll sleep with a few more of them at some point and Jesus I’m coked out of my mind so I start smiling and saying hi to a few of them and then C--- puts his arm around my waist and tells me that we’re going inside so I tell everyone else that I’ll see them in there. The bar’s already crowded inside and I can hear the music – some Avril Lavigne remix – being played from the dance floor upstairs and I start bobbing my head to it and B---- asks me if I want a drink and I tell him sure, sure whatever he’s having and he smiles and says something like “bourbon on the rocks” and I tell him perfect – bring it on and I start looking around and my head can’t keep up with my eyes and I see all these faces and wonder when the last time was that I saw them outside of a bar and in natural lighting and I reach the conclusion that – at least for a lot of them – I’ve never seen them in natural lighting, but only under the dimmed fluorescent bulbs of approximately four different bars around -----.
B--- comes back with my bourbon and it goes down my throat smooth like silk and then he points to the other end of the bar where R--- is standing with the newbie, which is some blonde kid that I’ve never seen before and B--- tells me that the kid looks like a whore, anyway, and that he’s pretty sure he got fucked by O--- and E--- in some threesome at the beach the first weekend he was in town and I tell him whatever, I don’t care, R---‘s a fucking loser, and he’s trash, which I don’t really believe, and which B--- doesn’t really believe, either, and then instinctively B--- hands me the dime bag and tells me that money buys happiness and happiness is Colombian Gold and I take the bag and tell him I’ll be right back and then I start pushing my way toward the bathroom which has got this huge line but I push my way past it anyway and this old guy grabs my arm and tells me I have beautiful eyes and I tell him to fuck off and he gets all offended and he and his old fuck of a friend call me a drugged out bitch and I tell him to stop touching me before I sock him across the face and he laughs and bellows and tells me to give it my best shot but instead I just pull my arm away and turn around and bump into R--- and he gives me this look that’s saying “when did this happen to you,” and I ask him to excuse me and I go into an empty stall and lock the door.
I look into this dirty mirror that’s in the stall and I hear the music from upstairs change from Avril Lavigne to Pink or Lindsay Lohan or something and my pupils have started returning to their normal sizes and I start recognizing the way that they looked a year ago, right before Christmas, so I shovel three key-fuls of blow up my right nostril and it starts burning and the back of my throat tastes like gasoline and that old fuck from before keeps pounding on the door of the stall and I tell him to fuck off again before taking one more bump.
B--- comes back with my bourbon and it goes down my throat smooth like silk and then he points to the other end of the bar where R--- is standing with the newbie, which is some blonde kid that I’ve never seen before and B--- tells me that the kid looks like a whore, anyway, and that he’s pretty sure he got fucked by O--- and E--- in some threesome at the beach the first weekend he was in town and I tell him whatever, I don’t care, R---‘s a fucking loser, and he’s trash, which I don’t really believe, and which B--- doesn’t really believe, either, and then instinctively B--- hands me the dime bag and tells me that money buys happiness and happiness is Colombian Gold and I take the bag and tell him I’ll be right back and then I start pushing my way toward the bathroom which has got this huge line but I push my way past it anyway and this old guy grabs my arm and tells me I have beautiful eyes and I tell him to fuck off and he gets all offended and he and his old fuck of a friend call me a drugged out bitch and I tell him to stop touching me before I sock him across the face and he laughs and bellows and tells me to give it my best shot but instead I just pull my arm away and turn around and bump into R--- and he gives me this look that’s saying “when did this happen to you,” and I ask him to excuse me and I go into an empty stall and lock the door.
I look into this dirty mirror that’s in the stall and I hear the music from upstairs change from Avril Lavigne to Pink or Lindsay Lohan or something and my pupils have started returning to their normal sizes and I start recognizing the way that they looked a year ago, right before Christmas, so I shovel three key-fuls of blow up my right nostril and it starts burning and the back of my throat tastes like gasoline and that old fuck from before keeps pounding on the door of the stall and I tell him to fuck off again before taking one more bump.
Rule #6: "Good little boys know to leave room for the Holy Ghost when they dance."
I go upstairs and I’m feeling better because I’ve got this sudden burst of chemical energy and I’ve finished my bourbon and I order another one and I see B--- dancing in a corner of the room with this nebbish kid he used to fuck four months ago but then sort of got over and now apparently he’s into him again. I don’t see R--- anywhere and I can’t decide why that makes me happy but it just does and I sip my bourbon which I can’t even taste anymore – no silk, no nothing – and I look across the dance floor to see if there’s anyone worth going through the motions with just so I can forget them the next morning but then I spot C--- dancing with a group of people and his shirt is off and he’s got this perfect film of sweat covering his abs and then X--- or K--- whispers something to him and C--- looks over at me and smiles and gives me this nod that basically says “come here” and just that, just that nod, makes me get a little bit hard, so I set my glass down on the bar and push my way through to where C--- is standing. He says something like “I thought we lost you” and I tell him that no, never, and he says something else that during another lifetime I probably would have written off as unacceptable or offensive or cheesy or something but now makes me even harder and I say something else but I can’t hear it and I don’t think that he can either but he laughs anyway and he puts his hand on the small of my back and starts moving closer toward me and it’s then that I see R--- come upstairs with the blonde kid and he looks at me and sort of shakes his head in this sad way and I turn away from him and back into C---‘s abs and dance closer to him and start feeling his sweat drench my shirt and my heart is racing so fast and I can feel R--- looking disappointingly into the back of my head and that makes me smile and cry and laugh and grimace all at once and C--- asks me what’s wrong and I can feel the front of his Diesel jeans pressing against my back and I tell him that nothing’s wrong but that it’s just hot in here and that it’s getting late and I’m ready to go to an after party or something or maybe get something to eat or another drink, just something away from here.
So he tells me that there’s this after party at his place and we should go and then he grabs my hand and I’m feeling all beautiful and damned all at once.
So he tells me that there’s this after party at his place and we should go and then he grabs my hand and I’m feeling all beautiful and damned all at once.
Rule #7: Good little boys never outstay their welcome."
I’ve been to C---‘s house and it’s nice and has two floors and has two extra bedrooms and all granite countertops and a lot of art on the walls so it’s a far cry from my small studio apartment. It’s empty when we get there and he tells me that people will be there in a few hours and he asks me if I have anymore of the blow and I say just enough for the two of us and he says that’s perfect and then he pours two drinks of I don’t know what and I’m starting to wonder if anyone is really coming over later or if it’s really just going to be the two of us and I thought that at the beginning of the night that this was what I wanted – that I just wanted it to be the two of us, even though I don’t particularly find him interesting or intelligent or any of those important qualities that my parents told me I should look for in other people – but now as I’m looking at him and I’m starting to recognize the art on his wall from that Urban Outfitters store that’s in town I find myself starting to hope that there are more people who are going to come over or that I dropped the dime bag on the dance floor or something.
But more people don’t come over and I didn’t drop the dime bag and so instead we finish the coke without speaking and as he pours our third round of drinks I try to ask him about his job but he doesn’t have that much to say about it, other than he goes to it every day and fucked around with an intern that he had last summer, and then I ask him if he’s read anything good recently, and he reminds me about the Us Weekly, and he said there was an interesting story about this new form of liposuction, and I ask him if he likes literature and he shrugs and asks if Us Weekly can be classified as literature and I tell him that I don’t think it can be in the traditional sense so he tells me that no, no he doesn’t like reading and then he asks me if I’m going to go to this circuit party that’s going to be in town in two weeks and I tell him that I’ve never been to a circuit party and he laughs and tells me that I’m so young and statements like that really show my age and I ask him if that’s a bad thing and he grins and tells me that he’ll decide that after we go upstairs
and then suddenly I just want to leave I want to go home I want to get out of here and get out of my skin and hide and run but I can’t because he’s kissing me and pushing me against the bar and his rough skin hurts my face but I can’t tell him to stop and I can’t move and I shut my eyes harder than I ever have before and I let it happen because everyone else has told me this is what I want.
But more people don’t come over and I didn’t drop the dime bag and so instead we finish the coke without speaking and as he pours our third round of drinks I try to ask him about his job but he doesn’t have that much to say about it, other than he goes to it every day and fucked around with an intern that he had last summer, and then I ask him if he’s read anything good recently, and he reminds me about the Us Weekly, and he said there was an interesting story about this new form of liposuction, and I ask him if he likes literature and he shrugs and asks if Us Weekly can be classified as literature and I tell him that I don’t think it can be in the traditional sense so he tells me that no, no he doesn’t like reading and then he asks me if I’m going to go to this circuit party that’s going to be in town in two weeks and I tell him that I’ve never been to a circuit party and he laughs and tells me that I’m so young and statements like that really show my age and I ask him if that’s a bad thing and he grins and tells me that he’ll decide that after we go upstairs
and then suddenly I just want to leave I want to go home I want to get out of here and get out of my skin and hide and run but I can’t because he’s kissing me and pushing me against the bar and his rough skin hurts my face but I can’t tell him to stop and I can’t move and I shut my eyes harder than I ever have before and I let it happen because everyone else has told me this is what I want.
Rule #8: "Good little boys never kiss and tell."
His room is dirty and musky and there are t-shirts and jeans thrown over chairs and on the floor and there’s this big bottle of lubricant sitting on his nightstand and he’s forceful and robotic and pushes me face down on to the bed and rips my jeans off and starts kissing the small of my back and this, this even hurts me and I just want this all to stop but that other part of me that let me press him up against the counter downstairs won’t let it stop
and I close my eyes and when he pushes into me it hurts and I can’t tell if he’s using a condom because I’ve kept my eyes closed the entire time and he just keeps pushing and pushing and pushing and I never turn around to look at him but instead I just put my face into this pillow that I don’t think has been washed in a while and the pillow starts getting wet which is when I realize that I’m crying but neither of us can hear it because the only sound in the room is heavy breathing and
and my brother holds my head in his hands and lets me sob loudly into them and he tells me that I’m a damned good kid, the best damned kid he’s ever known in fact, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a goddamned idiot and he runs his hand through my hair and reminds me that this world’s a good place regardless of how the cards may fall sometimes and that tragedy is temporary but love and faith are
and once he’s finished he tells me that he has to wake up early in the morning and then he says “you’re welcome, I know you’ve wanted that for a while” and I put on my jeans and I’m sore and I hurt and I open up the front door and the first hint of sun is fighting the horizon.
and I close my eyes and when he pushes into me it hurts and I can’t tell if he’s using a condom because I’ve kept my eyes closed the entire time and he just keeps pushing and pushing and pushing and I never turn around to look at him but instead I just put my face into this pillow that I don’t think has been washed in a while and the pillow starts getting wet which is when I realize that I’m crying but neither of us can hear it because the only sound in the room is heavy breathing and
and my brother holds my head in his hands and lets me sob loudly into them and he tells me that I’m a damned good kid, the best damned kid he’s ever known in fact, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a goddamned idiot and he runs his hand through my hair and reminds me that this world’s a good place regardless of how the cards may fall sometimes and that tragedy is temporary but love and faith are
and once he’s finished he tells me that he has to wake up early in the morning and then he says “you’re welcome, I know you’ve wanted that for a while” and I put on my jeans and I’m sore and I hurt and I open up the front door and the first hint of sun is fighting the horizon.
Rule #9: "Good little boys know that there are 24 useable hours in every day."
The street is empty except for a row of parked cars. Sheets of mist hang between the bumpers. I don’t know where I am and I don’t know how to get home
but I do know that this is not how it ends because humanity will not allow it.
but I do know that this is not how it ends because humanity will not allow it.
Rule #10: "And so here it is the silvery verse."
I do not think when I enter the door of my apartment but instead I move to the kitchen determined to prevent myself from causing more tragedies and so
and so the bottle of aspirin goes down easy like a lean cuisine meal and the fifth of vodka goes down easier and I sit on my bed next to a copy of This Side of Paradise and I put my own head in my hands and for the first time in my life my hands feel like my brother’s and I neither cry nor smile but instead I think about what’s on the other side of paradise and I wonder what would have happened if I had been there all along and what would have transpired if
And every time you dream of better
All you end up getting is worse
And the ability to truly see the changes in your life
Could be the ultimate encompassing curse
But intrinsically humanity cannot end on such tragedy
So here it is the silvery verse, oh I must sing
and so the bottle of aspirin goes down easy like a lean cuisine meal and the fifth of vodka goes down easier and I sit on my bed next to a copy of This Side of Paradise and I put my own head in my hands and for the first time in my life my hands feel like my brother’s and I neither cry nor smile but instead I think about what’s on the other side of paradise and I wonder what would have happened if I had been there all along and what would have transpired if
And every time you dream of better
All you end up getting is worse
And the ability to truly see the changes in your life
Could be the ultimate encompassing curse
But intrinsically humanity cannot end on such tragedy
So here it is the silvery verse, oh I must sing
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