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Father may have been wrong

What's the point? I think for the billionth time as I lug my 160 pounds of flesh down the ugly brown wrinkle that acts as the stairs in my ugly brown life. I'm dressed in the jeans I slept in and the first shirt I could find this morning. I don't even know if it's clean. Not like it matters. "Nothing matters." That's what my father said right before the day he was hit and killed by a car, last year. I call to the dead house, "Bye." No reply. Of course not. Mom hardly comes home anymore -- she works so much. When she does, she just collapses onto the couch. I slam the door on my life and the world batters me in the face as I trudge to the bus stop like I do every day. I hate my life. Finally the stinking hunk of metal jerks me to my daily prison -- school. I trip down the stairs and onto the dismal sidewalk. A couple of my buddies shout to me, but I ignore them, I don't feel like talking today. But I can't escape. "Hey, Matt!" It's Ross. He is always so loud. I glance at him. Darn. Now he knows I heard. "Commere!" He gestures at me. I haul myself over to him and a group of guys. "You gotta check this out!" someone says. "What?" I glance up for the first time that day (my eyes live with my shoelaces) and there it is. She is. My God. She is the most amazing thing I've ever seen. She's beautiful, but not stunningly so. It's subtle. She's wearing baggy boy jeans and a washed out T-shirt, but she's gorgeous. Her earrings catch the sunlight. As she flows past she looks at me, no, through me, and keeps going. How long has it been since I washed this shirt? Brushed my hair? Darn. Maybe I should've gotten up on time. I won't be ignored. I deserve some acknowledgment, however small. "Hey, Matt? Dude? Earth to Matt." Ross is muttering at me out of the corner of his mouth, hoping the guys won't notice. I snap back. "What?" I ask stupidly. "We're watching this video online, it's those crazy stunt guys." He looks at me, willing me to be "cool" for his friends. "Oh, right, yeah. They're sweet." I glance at Ross. Approved. I pretend to watch the video for a minute, but my mind is just not there. Slowly I edge away from the group and up the steps to school. I should've said something to her. Idiot. I look like crap. She'd think nothing of me; she didn't even see me. Why do I have such frikin' bad timing with stuff like this? Tomorrow. Tomorrow I can be a whole new guy, for her. Just so I'm not looked over, looked through. I shouldn't throw my whole self in the trash yet. That's what matters. That's the point, Dad.
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Upload Date: 31/12/1969

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