"I want to bang your mom!! Just look at her!!"
Disdain. Everything flashed in crimson red—a period of a single second, drowned by all-encompassing redness.
"Huh?!" Replied a man to that vile statement; it was fueled with confusion and a form of anger that is not yet fully materialized.
"You heard me!! Your mom… I want to bang her!! I want to fuck her up!!"
This interaction cannot be held up to any standard—a comfortable living room with two cups of tea and some cookies; the one making the repulsive claim, was in fact, the visitor.
The man whose mother had just become an object of sexualization, stood up and loudly yelled—the line was blurry and uncertain.
But the one getting screamed at, simply smirked.
***
A kind, soft and loving voice came from behind, "good luck on your first day of school, Anon!!" I was putting on my shoes, preparing to go out, "thanks," I replied rather numbly—you could even call it cold, if you will.
I left the apartment I was living in—it wasn't large, just enough for three people; the building it resided in was decently large on the other hand—we were on the sixth floor, so I had the two options of taking an elevator or manually going down the stairs.
"A new school, huh," I quietly whispered to myself while taking out my phone—I searched up the school on Google Maps to get directions straight on; "seven minutes of walking, okay, looks good"; voicing these lines, faint uneasiness ran through the atmosphere.
Began taking my steps, but they seemingly slowed down—each step was muddied for no particular reason. Eventually, upon feeling like I walked through a whole blizzard, I got right next to the highschool—moderately large, given that our town is small—people were all over—the tradition seemed to be a big gathering outside, before proceeding to go indoors.
"So… uhhh…" I timidly let out while warily looking around, "...where would… my class be…"
I took one more step forward—this time, the arm of the devil was around my leg, holding me off from moving.
Then… my brain zapped.
You know, that one feeling when everything clicks for you? You're indecisive—until suddenly you're the most decisive person in the world.
I turned around and simply walked off in the distance—it wasn't the road home, it was the path to somewhere unknown—you could call it the destination towards more buildings, a place I don't frequent because of my comfort habits.
The further I got away from the school, the more humiliation, seemingly out of nowhere, began munching on me—what is this uncomfortable feeling?—I thought, being unhappy with my state of emotions.
"I don't have anxiety—what kind of disgusting thought is that?" I voiced to no one in particular; the tone was impatient and frustrated.
"Look," I added, while turning around with the purpose of walking back; I froze once peeping at it, from far away, then simply proceeded to walk towards some random store.
Being overflown with frustration at myself, I kicked a trash-can that was next to the building—it fell over with garbage dropping out of it; I didn't pause, I kept moving towards the entrance without as much as considering that I did something wrong.
What I'd buy didn't enter my mind even once on the way—now that I was in the store, only then the contemplation of what to buy emerged. I started aimlessly looking at everything: chips, sodas, sweets, and even alcohol; the last one in particular, however, was just an unavailable eye-candy.
Realizing that I didn't particularly want anything, even after looking around for roughly five minutes, I grabbed a random bag of chips and a bottle of soda—promptly began walking out of the store with my head still in the clouds, "hey! You need to pay for that!"
Immediately, "oh—" came out of my mouth—it went over my head that I didn't pay; I almost robbed a store by accident, just like that.
Went to the cashier and silently took off my backpack—began scavenging through the pockets, slowly realizing that my image of a robber might just become even stronger.
Then I suddenly found some cash—surprisingly, an amount I had no idea was in my backpack: a whole 20 pound bill—I could easily even buy alcohol with this, if it were legally possible for me.
"Have a nice day," the cashier voiced; I silently walked out—surely, there's no way in hell I have social anxiety, right?—the thought flashed through my eyes, yet nonetheless, I left the store without saying a word.
Not knowing what to think, I decided to just go somewhere quiet and enjoy some peace—surely, I wasn't going to go somewhere quiet in order to stress eat, right?—another intrusive thought began barking at me—frustration rose rather mercilessly.
"Hey Anon, that's not nice! I saw what you did earlier! You shouldn't let out your anger like that!"