Plot Bunny
A result of multiple brain farts. I'm working on an essay do tomorrow morning: before 8. It's currently 2:22 in the morning. Weeeee.
I hate work.
So I decided to procrastinate for a couple of minutes. Wrote something down that was randomly flying around my head. Don't know where it came from.
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Our story started out like any old boy meets girl cliché. I was the bad boy who wanted attention; she was the good girl who didn’t want trouble. She stayed away from guys like me, and I fucked virgins like her. And just like any cliché, the fates put us together. Partners in a project, running into each other on campus--the works. She hated how I was, how I treated others, and the things I did to myself. I was messed up, no use denying it. She fixed me. She grabbed a hold of my life, dumped it in bleach, and magically made everything better. She changed me. So, of course, like the cliché goes, I fell in love with her, my first true friend in years. I wait awhile, and eventually confess. I tell her exactly how I feel. I imagined tears of happiness would make her eyes look all sparkly; she’d embrace me and tell me how she loved me too. We’d kiss passionately.
For once, my life didn’t follow a cliché.
What actually happened after I confessed:
She stared at me in amazement, and then a mixture of horror and sorrow. She stuttered, looking for the right words to use. I can take a hint: R. E. J. E. C. T. I. O. N. I told her as much, and began to walk away, feeling like the biggest dumbass on earth. She chased after me, a fact that, secretly, made me happy. She told me I didn’t understand, and that it wasn’t me, it was her. I could only think how those lines were supposed to be said in a break up. I gave her a look that said as much. She looked frustrated, and raised her voice. She said she was being serious. So was I, I countered. For a brief moment, I played around with the idea of her hitting me. She seemed ready to do it. She shook her head, brown hair whipping around as a result. She lowered her voice then, eyes staring down at the ground rather than at my face.
Her next words did multiple things to me: shocked me, stupefied me, kicked my ego in the nuts, and then gave an icepack to my weeping ego.
“I’m gay.”
I’m pretty sure there are no clichés that go like that.
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Don't even bother to take this seriously. My head hurts and I'm bored as fuck and I don't want to write an essay. *continues complaining*