boy vs. world
us vs. them
"Who cares if you're the only black guy there. They don't care."
"I care. And yes, they do care. Don't think I don't notice that second it takes for all ya'll to gloss my skin over with your eyes so it looks like you're talking to another white guy."
"...Well, I know I don't do that."
"Don't give me that. You all do. Sometimes it doesn't take a second, but none of you white boys can stand to look a brutha in the eye and talk black to white. I see you paint my skin white. With your eyes. Don't think I don't see that. I could not stand to bei in the center of 20 or 30 of you all with your half second of poorly hidden anxiety, then another half second of stone-faced scannin', like machines I swear, makin' it so they don't have to deal with no black sheep in the room."
"...Black sheep."
"You got somethin' to say??"
"No..no, you don't have to go if you don't want to. It's fine."
"That's right. Machines, man..."
"Machines. Yeah, I get that."
"That's right."
"Yeah."
"..."
"..."
me vs. you
After a long silence the brunette drops her coffee mug from her mouth and glares at the boy across the room. She hurls her coffee mug smashing it against the wall inches from the boy's head. Brunette stares at boy with hunger in her eyes, licks her lips, and lunges across the room for a kiss. Before the boy can look up in terror he is knocked back against the wall, his hands searching behind for escape. They boy has nothing to do but accept and wait for the girl to finish. Brunette opens her eyes, lips still in a death lock, seeing under her just lifted eye lids that the boy's sleepy gaze is peering uninterested to the ground. She releases the boy from her hold, a spindle of saliva tugs and snaps from the gesture, the boy still transfixed on a spot beyond her and the floor. A tearful slap sends the boy trembling from the wall to the ground, brunette storms out the room sobbing, the boy trembling between his knees on the kitchen floor, his gaze now fixed on the tears littered along the tiles.
boy vs. self
Boy leads the brunette rushing past the crowd of passengers getting off their subway car, the two lose sight of each other but her hand grasped in his makes them a paper link chain crunching their way to the inside of the car. They drop down to plastic seats as the car doors close behind the last passenger, the two finally alone on their way home. The boy sees this as his only oppurtunity and makes a lunge for the lips sitting next to him. A firm hand knocks him back into his seat, "Please," the brunette stated conclusively. A deep sigh, and a slow grin grows on the boys face.
--
So there you go, the most Teen-LiveJournal-y thing I will ever write. Hope you enjoyed it. Oh and I stole the second scene from a show I'm watching, but whatever. Now it's in writing.
"Who cares if you're the only black guy there. They don't care."
"I care. And yes, they do care. Don't think I don't notice that second it takes for all ya'll to gloss my skin over with your eyes so it looks like you're talking to another white guy."
"...Well, I know I don't do that."
"Don't give me that. You all do. Sometimes it doesn't take a second, but none of you white boys can stand to look a brutha in the eye and talk black to white. I see you paint my skin white. With your eyes. Don't think I don't see that. I could not stand to bei in the center of 20 or 30 of you all with your half second of poorly hidden anxiety, then another half second of stone-faced scannin', like machines I swear, makin' it so they don't have to deal with no black sheep in the room."
"...Black sheep."
"You got somethin' to say??"
"No..no, you don't have to go if you don't want to. It's fine."
"That's right. Machines, man..."
"Machines. Yeah, I get that."
"That's right."
"Yeah."
"..."
"..."
me vs. you
After a long silence the brunette drops her coffee mug from her mouth and glares at the boy across the room. She hurls her coffee mug smashing it against the wall inches from the boy's head. Brunette stares at boy with hunger in her eyes, licks her lips, and lunges across the room for a kiss. Before the boy can look up in terror he is knocked back against the wall, his hands searching behind for escape. They boy has nothing to do but accept and wait for the girl to finish. Brunette opens her eyes, lips still in a death lock, seeing under her just lifted eye lids that the boy's sleepy gaze is peering uninterested to the ground. She releases the boy from her hold, a spindle of saliva tugs and snaps from the gesture, the boy still transfixed on a spot beyond her and the floor. A tearful slap sends the boy trembling from the wall to the ground, brunette storms out the room sobbing, the boy trembling between his knees on the kitchen floor, his gaze now fixed on the tears littered along the tiles.
boy vs. self
Boy leads the brunette rushing past the crowd of passengers getting off their subway car, the two lose sight of each other but her hand grasped in his makes them a paper link chain crunching their way to the inside of the car. They drop down to plastic seats as the car doors close behind the last passenger, the two finally alone on their way home. The boy sees this as his only oppurtunity and makes a lunge for the lips sitting next to him. A firm hand knocks him back into his seat, "Please," the brunette stated conclusively. A deep sigh, and a slow grin grows on the boys face.
--
So there you go, the most Teen-LiveJournal-y thing I will ever write. Hope you enjoyed it. Oh and I stole the second scene from a show I'm watching, but whatever. Now it's in writing.