Inside These Empty Walls.

Prologue.
There are sometimes when you wish that life hadn’t just stayed in a stagnant daze.
This is where college had dwindled to for me. 1

I lay staring at the crafted white paint on the walls, the emptiness of the bed all the way across the room, and the light in the bathroom that flickered like a bug zapper.
My roommate had moved out. Wasn’t I supposed to enjoy this? This freedom to do whatever I chose to was supposed to be appealing. Why wasn’t it?
For most college students, having a roommate is an underlying highlight. Sure, it may not be the best thing in the world, but it was something dorm life was all about.
This is only my second semester as a freshman.
I had already missed that train.2

Day 1.
My dreams finally came true on February 2, 2007.3

“Hi…” I said, walking into the small, white room.4

She turned around, hair tied up in a tight, composed ponytail. Her blonde hair accented the pale tones of the room. Lines formed above her nose and her eyebrow was in an intense arch.5

“Hi?” She said, and turned back around, pinning up a Disney poster.6

Purples and pinks flew out at me like an overwhelming kaleidoscope. I felt like we were two different aspects of Alice In Wonderland. She was the fake Alice, all blonde and petite, wandering around in a make-believe world that Disney made up. I was American Mcgee’s Alice, dirty and covered in blood, holding a knife un-covering the morbid world she created. I had decided from that moment that I stepped in, this would be war.7

“What? What are you staring at?” She asked, crossing her arms.
“This is my room. I can stare … at what I want,” I said, sheepishly looking around the room.8

Her pictures seemed to pop out and judge me. Disney princesses formed their way around her side of the room, staring at me in constant, complete glee, and stupid, happy pictures of her and her “fantastic” boyfriend were plastered about in the midst of the make-believe storm. 9

“Oh? So, this is how it’s gonna go? Well, I’m sorry, Emo, but I’m not tearing down my posters for your stupid, grungy, depressive shit,” she said, snottily walking off.10

This is why I had my getaway, my beautiful spot. It was completely dark, and underneath my bed. I collaged band pictures and drawings all over my side of the room. I topped it all off with a blanket over the front, I was completely concealed. I listened to my Norma Jean high enough to where I didn’t even have to hear her footsteps. Perfection in utter isolation was looking more and more overwhelmingly beautiful like a shiny, chocolate bar. 11

Day 23.
The perfect image got stuck in my head. Winter trees swaying side to side, resembling little, bristling ice storms. They had snow just barely gracing their weak limbs. Wind brushed around them, full of loud calmness. I stood in the middle, full of intense happiness. I felt like an ice princess, dancing to the beat of the drum cadence in her head. All of a sudden, chaos ensued from a distance, but continued nearing. 12

“Emo! Emo, where are you?” Megan shouted, higher than my music.
“What the fuck do you want?” I asked, throwing off my headphones.
“Maybe you should clean for once. Shower, maybe? Wear something other than black? How about you wear I don’t know… something colorful?” She asked, a hand on her hip.
“Bite me,” I said, sneaking back into my cave.
“Do you have black underwear too?” She asked, moving my blanket from the top of my cave.
“Yes. Black, lacy ones. It’s actually a thong. I wear it for all of the kiddies on the corner,” I said. “Oh wait. I shouldn’t talk about that around the little ones in the room.”
“You can’t even pass for a twelve year old. You’re boobs are too small,” she stated.
“Okay, that’s the best you got? Seriously? Lame-ass,” I said, starting to type on my computer.
“That’s why you don’t have a boyfriend. Your skin barely even touches the sun. You just sit there, miserable. You lie there, wrapped up in all of your medication. All of your sick, stupid pills…” She started rattling on.
“Die please,” I said, not moving my eyes from the computer screen.13

Day 43.
I was thrown for a loop; this was the second time this image was conjured up. Although, this time, it was different. I stood, dancing in my beautiful harmony, but this time… there was a boy. He stood there staring at me with the biggest, bluest eyes I have ever seen in my life. His hair slightly slanted in front of his face, and his façade reading exactly as mine. He was truly beautiful in all of his destruction, in mine. 14

“…Faren? Is that right?” He asked, slightly perplexed.
“Huh? What?” I asked, pen cascading out of my mouth like a cigarette. “The bathroom? It’s that way. You can’t miss it,” I said, nonchalantly, continuing to write.15

He didn’t seem to move, he slightly shuffled. His hands were shoved in his pockets. His shadow enveloped the paper that my chicken scratches were drawn upon. 16

“Well, I didn’t exactly… I thought I’d…” He said, words not coming out right. “I kind of wanted to talk to you…” He added, with a slight kick to the ground.
“I don’t talk. I’m a mute,” I said, brushing off his comment.
“Okay… uhm. Well,” he said, seeming to get a little more nervous as the minutes passed.
“Obviously, you aren’t getting the point,” I said, finally turning around.17

Yes, it’s cheesy. Yes, it’s inevitably corny, but he was the perfect, porcelain boy in my image. His hair was disheveled in an entrancing way, dressed in black from head to toe, Chuck Taylors dirty, and his eyes bluer than I imagined they would be.18

“…and obviously, I didn’t get it either,” I added, chewing on my pen in awe.19

He smiled a cute, shy smile and looked away, appearing to be even more nervous that I was actually looking at him.20

“You’re…?” I asked, not quite believing he was standing in front of me.
“Me? I’m Brandon.” He said. “Faren, right?” He asked. 21

He walked around the sofa I casually slumped upon in all of my artistic rage. When I was out and about with an image in my head, I had to sit down at that precise moment and write it all out. My artistic fusion had to get out, whatever the environmental situation. My alternative for my cave had been the sofa that sat right outside the food court. 22

“Yep. That’s me. I’m sorry about earlier…” I started to explain.
“No, don’t worry about it. I know what it’s like to have an image in your head that you have to write about at that moment. You just kind of… drop everything,” he said.
“Do you have mind reading tendencies? Slight psychic disorder? Slip in some highly-powered acid that resulted in some devastating development?” I asked.
He just reddened, and answered, “Can I lie and say all of the above?”
“You’re a writer too, eh? Hm. God has a real way of having his jollies with me,” I said, with an eye roll.
“Not really a fate enthusiast, are we?” He asked, in an honest tone.
“Hm. I guess not,” I said, and started to gather my stuff. “Ugh. I think I’m gonna get some coffee,” I added, looking at the time. 23

It was 3:34 p.m. 24

“Yeah, I can’t function without the likes of coffee so early in the morning too,” he said, sarcastically.
“Thanks. Love the enthusiasm for my daily coffee drinking habits,” I said, getting up. “Oh, by the way, I live in Room 506, Burford. Stop by sometime,” I added, starting to walk away.
“I definitely will.” He said, smiling.25

I couldn’t help it; a smile was plastered on my face. You could probably see it for miles. I even didn’t mind that the horrible She-Hulk was in the room. Nothing could phase me. 26

“Wow, emo. You look happy today,” she said, looking at me in surprise.27

It honestly shocked me sometimes how much she could manipulate her face to look like she actually cared.
“What’s up?” She asked, turning her chair to me.
I raised my eyebrow and asked, “What… do you mean?”
“You look super happy. It’s … nice,” she said, with a simple smile.28

A slight brightness came over her. It was like a saw a light bulb actually hit her, instead of a realization dawning on her.29

“Oh. My. God. Did you find a little emo boyfriend?” She asked. “Wow, that is so cute. I mean, you guys can listen to rad music together and cut each other’s wrists. That is just so adorable,” she added, looking amused with herself.
I knew I was definitely in the same room now. 30

“Not listening,” I said, about to put my headphones on. “His name’s Brandon, if you must know. And no, I didn’t fuck him. And no, I don’t care to. And no, this is not for your amusement. And no, I’m not telling you anything else,” I added, putting my headphones on.31

Day 55.
Brandon and I hung out all the time now.
Sometimes, we even hung out with Megan and her boyfriend – yeah, it was kind of weird.
I guess, at times, you can tame the beast.32

“Hey Emos. What’s up?” She greeted us with a smile.
“Not too much. Me, I’m just pretending to do school work,” Brandon casually said. “…You?”
“Trying to do this stupid paper, Emo, if I die, will you cover up the blood?” She asked, laughing.
“Sure thing,” I said, logging into my computer.
“Brandon, I think I’m going to need your help,” she asked, batting her eyes. “Relationship issues.” She added.33

Brandon was the ultimate “mini-psychiatrist.” He couldn’t help it, he was a great listener. I just couldn’t help but raise my eyebrow. Something was a little fishy about it. I just thought, “Megan has a boyfriend. She loves him. They’re good together. They’ll make through whatever it is. Brandon shouldn’t even be an option.”34


Day 62.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.35

It was probably Megan’s boyfriend. I didn’t really care, I was satisfied. My ears were clouded with music from the overwhelmingly beautiful Drop Dead, Gorgeous. I just sat clacking on my computer. All of a sudden, I heard some interesting noises. God damnit, they must be having sex. There are some days Megan loves to go back to the same ole’ routine and disrupt my writing. God, it gets to me. I swear, she must be bi-polar.I finally wiggled my way out of my beautiful oblivion, until the words literally spilled out of my mouth. I was past the point of speechless. 36

“What the fuck?” I said aloud. “What… ha. Wow.” 37

There she was, waist to waist with my beautiful, perfect boy. I stared at them silently. Her lips in a boomerang shape, echoing a guilty conscience. His face looked like someone shot his best friend in the face. After a few seconds, something in me snapped and I just started laughing. 38

“Something funny, emo?” She asked, with an edge.
“Haha… yeah. Yeah, really funny,” I said, standing up and walking over to her. “I have had it up to here with your bullshit,” I continued, flicking a couple of papers off of her desk. “You know, I’ve sucked it up. I’ve tried being friends with you. But honestly, I can stand your face, your voice, your fucking existence. I’m done with it. It’s making me sick,” I added, with a look at both of them.39

She started to tear up, her little muffled, Barbie doll tears. You know, the perfect, crystallized ones? 40

“How could you say that? You are so … you’re so callous,” She said, starting to walk away in her fake, borrowed tears. 41

Those tears should be mine.42

“What the fuck!? I caught you making out with Brandon, the only guy I actually like in this fucking place… and you’re calling me callous? Me? Really?” I said, analyzing her.
“I didn’t even—“ She began spitting out.
“You know what? I really don’t even care anymore. It hardly even matters. You’re a bitch. End of fucking god damn story. Once upon a time has officially ended. You may leave your castle anytime now.” I said, pointing to the door. “Get out,” I added.
There are those times when you feel like you are ruler of your domain. That may stop some college kids from having more friends, but there are some times when the words you spit out go faster than your head. Sometimes, you don’t even have a conscience when they happen, sometimes you don’t even care.43

“And you know what? The next time you try speaking to me…” I said, looking at Brandon. “You better be on your fucking knees and pleading insanity.” I added, and walked back to my solitary cave, the only place I can be myself...