kieran north

And I know I sound like a fucking crazy person emo loner kid that's all woe is me, everything is dark and life's not worth living, but things have been... they've been really good for me lately. Really good. It's not just you, either, it's other people. I feel like I have people that care about me, and that scares the shit outta me because I'm not going to do anything but disappoint them because I can barely keep myself from bleeding to death in the god damn forest because I think some hoodoo blood magic ritual is actually going to help me make sense of things. 

There's this... voice in my head, and it keeps telling me that they're going to keep me safe. Like anchors. I already said anchors. This is what I meant by it, anchors in the same wharf. It's... a reason for me to be here. But I can't take it for what it is because the more I think about it, the more I wonder about the coincidence that a bunch of new people come to town and three different people are nice to me, and act all friendly and nice and funny and comforting, and--and I'm paranoid, you know? Like I'm setting myself up for failure. Because I could never be that lucky. I could never feel that popular. So there's gotta be a catch. Somebody wants something from me. Or thinks I'm something I'm not. 

You…kinda sound like you have though. 

I'm gonna--gonna walk away, and pretend like I didn't say anything, and maybe order a pizza because now I kind of want a pizza. 

Okay.

The wind was knocked out of him abruptly, legs giving out beneath him as his back pressed into the hard birch of the tree. Finding himself unable to breathe, Kieran choked on air, trying to swallow down the balloon blocking his lungs. He wheezed, hissing, tears stinging his eyes. His eyes were barely working, fogging over in a swirling darkness, unable to reconcile the person who had found him, but still a million and a half questions ran through his mind: who, how, why? Who was it? How did they find him? Why did they seem to care so much? 

Gritting his teeth, he pressed his head back against the trunk, doing his best not to cry. Easier said than done. The pain had multiplied, no longer just in his hand -- his feet burned from standing, his head throbbed from strain, his chest seizing from stress. "I--I--" he stammered, coughing in a whimper, strength sapping from his body. He broke down completely, an odd feeling to live through. Kieran couldn't think of the last time he cried. An actual cry, too, every emotion coming to their boiling point. Poetic justice, maybe, that the thing that send him over the edge was a physical scar rather than just another mental one. When his eyes opened again, they struggled to adjust to the light, even though it was darker than he remembered it being. "I was--" he said, clearing his throat, swallowing heavily. "There's--in my bag. Gauze. I--fuck." A tear streaked down his cheek, tickling his chin. He wanted to lash out, regain control of his arms, but one was being held down, the other was still bleeding rapids. "I didn't... I didn't mean to, I--it--it wasn't..."

The problem with remembering people how they used to be is that you start wondering if they were always like that, and you just didn't see it. I've got trouble rereading Watchmen because of it. I mean, I like him and all, but if I want grumpy old man nonsense, I'll watch Ducktales, y'know?

I’m taking introduction to computers. Mine’s full of empty bottles for medications that I ended up flushing, because honestly, I’m fine. I keep telling them I’m fine, but apparently my word is not enough. It’s whatever, I guess. 

You ever meet somebody and you can't quite put your finger on it, but you know there's some... otherworldly force that keeps throwing you together in weirder and weirder situations and conversations you want to escape but can't because, God forbid, you know that if you run away you're going to regret it and you realize that the person you've connected to is just as messed up as you and just as adamant that they're not messed up as you are and suddenly the town you grew up in and never made any friends in is a lot less empty and you feel like you found your soulmate but on a platonic, anchored in the same wharf, sort of way?

     ... Yeah. Me neither. 

I--thanks? I'm really not, though. My grades are abysmal. My talents include being able to identify animal sounds and adding two-digit numbers up to, but excluding, seventeen without getting confused. Maybe we could compare medicine cabinets one day. Mine's a real treasure trove of doctors having very conflicting opinions based on what political lobby pays for their practice.

That…sounds great, actually. I don’t know much about Eastern European foods, but if you had said “baklava” then I would’ve been sold.

You brought it up, not me. Have you ever been tested for ADHD? They thought I had it for a while, well, ADD, not hyperactive, but my teacher's thought I was too distracted for my own good, that I couldn't retain information. Then they thought it was asperger's, like I was some sort of... genius savant type. And then they just realized I liked to draw and stopped caring about me.

They, uh, they're... cabbage leaves wrapped around rice or beef and onions and stuff, usually in a tomato sauce, and you'd know what they were if you were Eastern European in the slightest. I'm not, but my uncle has a girlfriend that is like some Russian mob wife and she makes them all the time.