It's kinda sad how it gets easier to do the things you hate. Easier every time you do it.
Like just smiling. Grinning and quashing those bad feelings with a sense of cheekiness.
Let them yell. I can just smile. Ha! But I did do it.
Still…. There's always that little feeling in the pit of your stomach. That little feeling that says 'Gee, you musta really fucked up because what they're saying actually hurts.'
It's amazing how no amount of stomach clenching removes that feeling. That feeling of guilt, hurt, regret.
But it's cool. You grin. Bear it. Smile. Never let it show.
Why?
I don't know? I've never actually thought about why I do it. Just…. Instinct I guess.
I could tell them, that what they're saying hurts, show it. But than again, I'm not going to show the girls weakness, or Giles. It'd just be too… Embarrassing. Seriously, who actually sits down and discusses problems, feelings? This is high school. Either you ignore it, or you do something about it i.e. Violence
Maybe that's why I don't show it. Showing it would mean admitting that it hurt. Admitting that I don't like what they're saying. Admitting that it makes me angry.
So what if I fucking did?! Who says I cant?
Anger would rock the boat too much. There's really only enough room for one angry person in a group. Except when there's a united front. God I hate those fronts.
When are they gonna learn I don't care? That I'm not even listening? Maybe my smiles have just gotten that good? Though I would have thought they'd notice I'm not looking at them.
I never look at them during the rants. Always through them. Luckily enough today, it's just over their shoulders and at a very nice pair of Ms. Calendar legs.
I wonder if this is what I look like when I get this talk from my parents? Maybe I should tell them about my parents? Guilt them up? That would get them over this latest little fiasco so quick….
Fuck no ! I've never thought of a stupider thought all of my life.
I don't want their pity, their guilt. The glances. Seriously, who wants to know their friend has drunk, verbally abusive parents.
Oh poor Xander, he's so special, so tough, I feel so sorry for him.
No thanks. I think I'll play this one close to the chest, like lung close.
Huh? Oh, they're asking me something. Sure thing guys, no worries.
Fucking bastards. Don't give me that look.
That feeling in the back of my stomachs still there.
But, you know what? Lying to them is a hell of a lot easier than lying to myself.
So, I just smile.
It's also easier than being alone.