Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Dreams ❯ Entering the Insanity ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Dreams


Chapter One

I always said as a child that I would never get caught up in drugs, cigarettes and
alcohol. I never knew what I would become. I never knew what I would go through in
just five years. Of course, looking back at who I was, there is no reason why I wouldn't
end up like this. I guess nobody knows what will happen to them. I guess all we can do is
dream...

I awoke around ten in the morning, or at least that's what the clock on my stereo
flashed. I stared blankly around my room for several moments. I didn't have a very big
room. There was an entertainment center against a window with a thick blue comforter
acting as the blinds. This made my room rather dark, even during the middle of the day.
In the entertainment center was a gray Sanyo television that had months of dust built up
on the screen. I looked over onto a closet door in the far corner of my room, close to the
edge of the entertainment center. There was a black light poster with a trippy design that
sometimes gave the sensation of falling into nothingness. A couple of black lights sat on a
small bookshelf next to the door. One doesn't work because I busted the light tube. I
turned my head to one side of my bed and stared blankly at a pale white wall for a second.
I sighed as I turned to the other. I had proudly draped my Canadian flag over my second
window. I moved it a bit to look outside.

"Damn it," I grumbled, as I was again disappointed to see another snow-free day in
December. I guess there hasn't been snow for awhile here in Kentucky, yet if you got 10
miles north or south you would have at least a couple of feet. I began searching for my
cigarettes out of frustration. I've always had a short temper. Countless things have been
broken out of frustration and anger. I finally found a pack crumpled up on the cold, beige
tile floor. I flicked the Camel Wide out of its pack and stuck it in my mouth. A grimaced
as I began searching for my lighter. I rummaged around and under my bed for a few
minutes, but no luck. Finally, I left the warmth and comfort of my bed and braved the
coldness of my poorly insulated room. I knelt down on something uncomfortable and
discovered it was my lighter.

"What the fuck!" I yelled. I threw my lighter onto my bed as unexplainable rage
built. I climbed back under my covers, though now they were slightly chilled by the cold
air that seeped in through the A/C unit in my window. I finally was able to light my
cigarette and puffed a few times to get it burning. I paused for a moment and stared off
into space, but I quickly took a long drag and inhaled. After holding the smoke in for a
couple of seconds, I gave a deep sign of relief as the smoke cloud flowed fluidly across
my room and through light streams that snuck into my room from behind my flag and
above the A/C. I started to look for my white, plastic ashtray, but decided not to bother. I
carelessly flicked the ashes onto the tile floor. My floor was covered with an invisible
layer of ashes. Though you couldn't see it, you knew it was there when you walked
around. My bed had its fair share of ash stains. Gray stains were spotted around my
mattress upon the dark gray sheets, which had a rather gay little design on them.

As soon as my cigarette was finished, I got out of bed and draped my blanket over
my near naked body. All I had on was a pair of blue boxers. I began to trek my way
through the piles of dirty clothes, empty Pepsi cans, grease-stained paper plates and
crumpled cigarette packs. I finally got through the trash dump when I tripped over a shit
brown laz-y-boy and fell face first onto the cold tile floor. I have no walking room in that
room -- what the hell was I thinking when I decided to put a recliner in there? I have no
room for myself, much less a recliner. After lying on the floor with the blanket now only
half wrapped around me, I got up and opened the door, which opened inward, crowding
me into my bed and recliner. I made my way down a narrow, eleven-foot hallway and
into the living room. At least there was some warmth to the air here. I headed back down
the narrow hallway and went into the bathroom across from my bedroom. I shut the door
and dropped my blanket on the blue-gray, inch-square tile floor. I sat down on the toilet
as I put my hands to my head. Occasionally, I let out a deep sigh. It was one of my
irregular habits.

I don't know why I started to do this. I guess it was to cope with my insanity. I
knew I was insane -- how can one have such a fucked up mindset and not have something
mentally wrong with him? I often thought about killing myself and other people. Most of
the feelings came from the anger and stress I was dealt everyday -- a lot of which I would
just randomly receive. I've been like this for about five years. That's when the pressure of
being alone in the world and fighting for my identity began to press on my mental health.
I remember a time when I never had these thoughts. I remember when all I did was have
fun. Those days are gone... and it's all that little bitch's fault.

"I want to kill her..." I mumbled. "I want to kill her, and him too. I want to kill all
those bastards who fail to understand my pain and who I really am." I rambled in quiet
insanity for several minutes, possibly a little over an hour. "Why don't they understand
me, why can't they leave alone, why why why why why...?" I began to tear up as I
steadily rocked back and forth, nearly curled into a ball.

"If they won't understand Zach, then make them..."

"No..."


"C'mon, at least fuck them up."

"No!"

I was rambling like a madman. It went on for a couple of hours before I finally got
up and went to my room to become lost in another drug-filled world. Marijuana or pills or
cocaine. Anything to get me high... anything to let me leave the world and my problems
behind, even if just for a short time. I took an orange prescription bottle from under a pile
of dirty clothes. It was fairly big -- about the size of those small cans of soda. I took about
six Kolonopin out, broke them in halves, and downed them with a flat Pepsi I found
conveniently nearby. I laid my head back, waiting for the effects of the drug to kick in.
While I waited, I decided to light up a half-smoked joint I had saved from a couple nights
back. As I laid there, I could feel the effects of both creep up on me at the same time. I was
able to roach the joint and put it on a small notebook next to my bed before I slipped into a
drug-induced, dreamless sleep.