Nothing to do about it
|-Hej! Den här är skriven på engelska. Hoppas att ni
kommer att tycka om den och att det inte blir allt
för svårt med engelskan. I annat fall så får jag
väl översätta den till svenska, så fler kan läsa
den. Hör gärna av er om det är något ni undrar över./ Dtre
Thinking to myself, there is nothing to do about it.
He has changed.
In the beginning, when nothing of this had happend he was the most wonderful, social, funniest, happy and friendly person you can imagine.
But after this he’s no more talking about things that he used to talk about. These funny comments or stupied ideas. Now he just responds when someone asks him something, nothing more.
There’s not only a change on the inside, but also the biggest change you could see was on his outside.
He had said sometime before, that his outside matched his inside. And I had laughed at him at that time and said that he must clean up his inside, because he really need to put on some cleaner clothes. He had just looked at me and then laughed. And said that I certainly needed that too.
That day we had been painting his room, black.
He had dyed his hair black; black as the blackest nightmare you could dream about.
It really matched his eyes. They have allways been dark, but now they were darker.
And it’s not everything he has done. He had got himself some piercings. It kinda fitted him well, I must say. It makes him look mysterious in a good way. But I will never be able to tell him that straight to face. Before I could tell him anything, but things change.
And his body has change too, he has become thinner and he had got himself some tatoos too. I don’t mind that he have tatoos, I have thought about to get someone myself. But the one he have one his back freaks me out. I mean lots of arms in a circle, thats scary. I like more that two he has on his both arms, flames, they start on his wrists and keep going up on his arms. These tatoos shining in red and bluegreen colours are the only things that is shining on him, everything else is dark.
I was kinda late and rushed through the schoolcorridors, on my left shoulder I had my bag bumping around on my back and in my right hand I had my mathbook. I cursed myself that this was the worst day to overslept. I could overslep any day at all, but not this day cause just today it was the last mathtest for this year. And my teacher was not the kindest person, if I could say so.
“Fuck”, I mutter to myself and looked at my watch. 20 minutes past eight. “Fuck”.
I opened the door and walked through and started to take the stairs in two-step at time. I rounded the corner and suddenly I found myself lying on the floor.
“Shit, I’m so late”, I mumbled and started to pick up my bag and suddenly my mathbook was hold up in front of me. I took it and then raise myself and with a smile I face the one I had bumped into and the same person who had give me my mathbook.
My smile slowly died when I saw who it was; Chester.
I looked at him and all I could see was an unreadable expression on his face. He’s face was totally empty of expression. And that worried me a bit. ‘Cause I have never seen him like this before.
His face looked worser than that time when had lunch. I mean some expression is better than none, right?
I didn’t know what to say, I just stood there watched him.
I started to look at him, to look at him if there was something left of his old self.
He was thin, he have allways been thin. We guys allways joked with him that someday he will blow away. He just said that it’s good to be thin, that he never needed to watch what he was eating. And that he didn’t take so much space like we fat asses did and then he slapped us on our heads and run away laughing with us behind.
I looked in his face, I actually was afraid, really afraid. I hadn’t looked at him properly since that thing happened, just some glimpse.
He had now a lip-piercing, it looked good. I mean it fitted him because he have thin lips. It wouldn’t looked good on me, cause my lips are more fuller.
Slowly my gaze had wandered up to his eyes. I didn’t know what to find there.
His eyes had allways showed me everything. In what mood he’s in, if he’s happy, sad, what he’s thinking about. You could say that it was like, to read an open book.
So it shocked me when I realise that I couldn’t see anything there. It was like he had closed the book. Now you could only read what was on the outside. The inside was closed for the world around and for me.
And his outside couldn’t I read. I mean of course I could see that he’s sad, or is he? I’m not so sure.
I miss him so. I miss to do all that stuff we used to do, all those small things. But I do hate him for what he had done.
Hate is a big word. Do I really hate him?
Yes- and no. I can’t hate him, not even after this. But I don’t think I can trust him, not yet. Fuck, why is everything so hard for me?
Suddenly something waked me up from my thoughts. Chester had said something.
I don’t remember that his voice was so, soft. He has a powerful voice and can really use it well, like when he sings. It’s wonderful to hear him do that.
But I didn’t expect that he woud talk so soft with me. I thought that he would yell and scream or even not talk at all, but- no.
-“ Are you late?” he asked looking at me.
-“ Uhmmm...”, it was the only thing I could say. When did I start to be so taciturn? I mean, it’s just Chester. There are no need to be so.
My eyes were fixed on his.
-“Math?” he asked nodded at my book I had in my hand.
It was a long silence. I couldn’t move, I was completly stucked to the floor.
He started to look at me up and down. And then he said, -“ Sorry for bumping into you. Are you hurt?”
He was asking me of I’m hurt! Yes, I’m hurt but not because he bumped into me. There are other reasons why I’m hurt and he know that damn well.
He looked at me with concerned in his eyes. Why is he concerned? It’s not like I have treat him well lately.
-“ Oh, sorry. I’m fine thanks”. “Thanks”, when did I need to thank him for something?
Again silence. And as before Chester broked it.
-“I need to go now”.
He looked at me with sorrow in his eyes and then he started to walk down the stairs.
Thinking to myself, there was nothing to do about it.