Ordinary
Writing prompt - Ordinary from DisenchantedDestroya
Ordinary. The word seems to have turned into an insult what with the whole ‘hipster’ movement and the drive to be as original and interesting as humanly possible. But apparently I’m the wrong kind of individual I could even go as far to say that I don’t fit with their conformist views. I think I confuse and therefore anger them because I can’t see another option. I’m not very mean and I never hit or scratch or swear at them and I do my best to keep out of their way. Them being the stereotypical kids at school, the kind that knocks you back into place on a daily basis.
They’re the ones who care about standing out; they have to be anything but ordinary.
Me though, I don’t really care. Yes I guess I am different, a little odd and rough around the edges but I’m indifferent to it, I guess you could say I do what I want. My brother’s the same; I mean he’d have to be to go out into Newark in a feather bower and jeans that tight.
However he had this friend who’s name slips my memory right now but he was this really short punk kid kind of cute in a puppy dog way but totally out of it. Everyone at school says he was whack and I’m pretty sure he was on around 10 types of medication none of which could have been good for him but he was (my brother) Gerard’s friend so the guy can’t have been all that bad.
I’m sorry about giving this guy such a crappy introduction because his life really was more than just a few crummy words slapped together by some geek in a Rancid t-shirt. His life is really that old story of how ‘society killed the teenager’. See the dude had always had issues Gerard used to tell me about them all the time. And yes they probably were secrets but Gerard couldn’t be expected to carry all of this on his back alone.
The guy lived in one of the posher houses just east of town you know the ones where the owners all drive Mercs and the wives stay at home all day filing their nails while the nanny looks after the kids.
The house was pretty ordinary neat lawn, blonde mom, and dad working in car sales. However this kid was very different he suffered with several different phobias some as simple as spiders and deep water others slightly more unusual like physical contact and cameras.
Now growing up in a house where the television was always on and the nanny was always asleep in the corner the guy had a lot of commercial influences and a hell-a-lot of the media’s views shoved down his throat from a young age. Thus making him very self concise from around 6 years of age, his mother not helping with her bleached hair and fake tans matching all the stars on TV.
He could see from a very young age that with his dark fluffy hair and vampire skin that he was far from what society considered normal. And so the battle to become ordinary began with anorexia.
He started out with becoming a veggie at around 8 then became and increasingly fussy eater and at the age of 12 the only thing he would consume without throwing up was carrot soup.
I think this diet is part of what started the collapse of his mental well being.
I remember Gerard almost laughing as he told me what his friend had done apparently the look on his mum’s face was priceless. The 13-year-old boy had shaved most of his floppy chestnut hair in an attempt to look like some of his favourite stars, so that he would be fashionable and fit with everyone’s views of ordinary.
His mother claimed he had ADHD and that the haircut was a result of his restlessness despite the fact that the boy spent most of his time quietly flicking through magazines. And so the prescriptions of Ritalin started flooding the poor kids way fucking up his brain even more.
This didn’t help him to feel ordinary though just clouded his thoughts and weakened his mind so he did the only thing he could do to make him feel alive.
At 14 the teen was a cutter and a deep one too, neither Gerard nor me had understood and he couldn’t explain his thoughts too jumbled his lungs too exposed to give breath to speak.
But I think the pain of the knife helped tell him that even though his mind may have been floating off somewhere in the atmosphere that he was still here.
His mom found out after about a year and decided that this must have been the results of Schizophrenia so more pills came rolling along to the teen who no longer had the will to get out of bed.
He was defiantly not ordinary then shrivelled and pale lying like a cancer patient who’s ready for death.
Gerard still went to visit him though despite his mother’s objections about her son not being safe to visit Gerard still managed to sneak in enough to see that his worrisome friend was still self-destructing.
This time he was abusing the very pills that were supposed to be fixing him to destroy his weathered body.
Gerard told me sometimes when he visited his friend that he feared his very appearance; his face was sunken, eyes hollow and dead, skin like memory foam and an off green colour. I never saw him like that and I’m glad.
Apparently the boy thought if he took more of the pills he would get better faster, he took throwing up, weight loss and blackouts all as good signs. Eventually he became so weak that the slightest movement would result in a cracked rib or dark purple bruises. Gerard said this was when he stopped visiting as much he told me that he kept having nightmares about his friend rising from the bed as a zombie.
I didn’t hear much about the gruesome teen from then on in fact it was nearly two months till Gerard told me about him again. About how he had asked for the window open so he could get some fresh air and then when his mother and the fussing doctors had finally left he had thrown himself from it landing dead with a thud a few yards away from the pool.
It’s about four years on from that now and I’m only just old enough to understand it all, to thank my parents daily for not making the same mistakes with Gerard and me. I never want to feel the need to change myself how he did, I’m so glad I’m happy with who I Am. Not so ordinary but I’m okay with that it’s all our little quirks and our slightly too big ears and not so tiny waists that make us who we are. Cheesy, dorky, depressed, hyper active, snobby, up tight, pretty, charming, awkward oh so incredibly ordinary human beings.
A/N So I’m sorry I don’t know what happened to the full stops in that :/ sorry if this was really bad but my train of thought changed so much while writing this I wasn’t sure if I should post it or not but I guess here you go!
Ordinary. The word seems to have turned into an insult what with the whole ‘hipster’ movement and the drive to be as original and interesting as humanly possible. But apparently I’m the wrong kind of individual I could even go as far to say that I don’t fit with their conformist views. I think I confuse and therefore anger them because I can’t see another option. I’m not very mean and I never hit or scratch or swear at them and I do my best to keep out of their way. Them being the stereotypical kids at school, the kind that knocks you back into place on a daily basis.
They’re the ones who care about standing out; they have to be anything but ordinary.
Me though, I don’t really care. Yes I guess I am different, a little odd and rough around the edges but I’m indifferent to it, I guess you could say I do what I want. My brother’s the same; I mean he’d have to be to go out into Newark in a feather bower and jeans that tight.
However he had this friend who’s name slips my memory right now but he was this really short punk kid kind of cute in a puppy dog way but totally out of it. Everyone at school says he was whack and I’m pretty sure he was on around 10 types of medication none of which could have been good for him but he was (my brother) Gerard’s friend so the guy can’t have been all that bad.
I’m sorry about giving this guy such a crappy introduction because his life really was more than just a few crummy words slapped together by some geek in a Rancid t-shirt. His life is really that old story of how ‘society killed the teenager’. See the dude had always had issues Gerard used to tell me about them all the time. And yes they probably were secrets but Gerard couldn’t be expected to carry all of this on his back alone.
The guy lived in one of the posher houses just east of town you know the ones where the owners all drive Mercs and the wives stay at home all day filing their nails while the nanny looks after the kids.
The house was pretty ordinary neat lawn, blonde mom, and dad working in car sales. However this kid was very different he suffered with several different phobias some as simple as spiders and deep water others slightly more unusual like physical contact and cameras.
Now growing up in a house where the television was always on and the nanny was always asleep in the corner the guy had a lot of commercial influences and a hell-a-lot of the media’s views shoved down his throat from a young age. Thus making him very self concise from around 6 years of age, his mother not helping with her bleached hair and fake tans matching all the stars on TV.
He could see from a very young age that with his dark fluffy hair and vampire skin that he was far from what society considered normal. And so the battle to become ordinary began with anorexia.
He started out with becoming a veggie at around 8 then became and increasingly fussy eater and at the age of 12 the only thing he would consume without throwing up was carrot soup.
I think this diet is part of what started the collapse of his mental well being.
I remember Gerard almost laughing as he told me what his friend had done apparently the look on his mum’s face was priceless. The 13-year-old boy had shaved most of his floppy chestnut hair in an attempt to look like some of his favourite stars, so that he would be fashionable and fit with everyone’s views of ordinary.
His mother claimed he had ADHD and that the haircut was a result of his restlessness despite the fact that the boy spent most of his time quietly flicking through magazines. And so the prescriptions of Ritalin started flooding the poor kids way fucking up his brain even more.
This didn’t help him to feel ordinary though just clouded his thoughts and weakened his mind so he did the only thing he could do to make him feel alive.
At 14 the teen was a cutter and a deep one too, neither Gerard nor me had understood and he couldn’t explain his thoughts too jumbled his lungs too exposed to give breath to speak.
But I think the pain of the knife helped tell him that even though his mind may have been floating off somewhere in the atmosphere that he was still here.
His mom found out after about a year and decided that this must have been the results of Schizophrenia so more pills came rolling along to the teen who no longer had the will to get out of bed.
He was defiantly not ordinary then shrivelled and pale lying like a cancer patient who’s ready for death.
Gerard still went to visit him though despite his mother’s objections about her son not being safe to visit Gerard still managed to sneak in enough to see that his worrisome friend was still self-destructing.
This time he was abusing the very pills that were supposed to be fixing him to destroy his weathered body.
Gerard told me sometimes when he visited his friend that he feared his very appearance; his face was sunken, eyes hollow and dead, skin like memory foam and an off green colour. I never saw him like that and I’m glad.
Apparently the boy thought if he took more of the pills he would get better faster, he took throwing up, weight loss and blackouts all as good signs. Eventually he became so weak that the slightest movement would result in a cracked rib or dark purple bruises. Gerard said this was when he stopped visiting as much he told me that he kept having nightmares about his friend rising from the bed as a zombie.
I didn’t hear much about the gruesome teen from then on in fact it was nearly two months till Gerard told me about him again. About how he had asked for the window open so he could get some fresh air and then when his mother and the fussing doctors had finally left he had thrown himself from it landing dead with a thud a few yards away from the pool.
It’s about four years on from that now and I’m only just old enough to understand it all, to thank my parents daily for not making the same mistakes with Gerard and me. I never want to feel the need to change myself how he did, I’m so glad I’m happy with who I Am. Not so ordinary but I’m okay with that it’s all our little quirks and our slightly too big ears and not so tiny waists that make us who we are. Cheesy, dorky, depressed, hyper active, snobby, up tight, pretty, charming, awkward oh so incredibly ordinary human beings.
A/N So I’m sorry I don’t know what happened to the full stops in that :/ sorry if this was really bad but my train of thought changed so much while writing this I wasn’t sure if I should post it or not but I guess here you go!