Daydreams of an Insomniac

[DistortedReality]

I figured with Nanowrimo I should bring back my CW thread which I left neglected in an absence and eventually got moved away.

Anyways here's where I'll store my usually crappy writing .3.

[DistortedReality]

I'm like gonna slap my hands against the keyboard for Nanowrimo and see what happens so Kicks doesn't yell at me ;w;

Minor Swearing, and probably other stuff that I haven't written yet. You were warned.

Spoiler: Chapter 1(WIP 618 words) 

It was the greatest dream. The kinda dream that only shows up every once and awhile. The mixture between amazing and the hell is my brain doing. And all of it, was interrupted by an alarm clock.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“No fair,” mumbled Ned sliding himself out from his warm covers to face the cold realities of life and the equally cold hardwood flooring. Summer vacation was over and Ned gave a baggy eyed stare at the still on Xbox in the corner of his messy room. At that moment he hated past Ned for deciding to have one last hurrah before facing the horror of Freshman year. Continuing a series of disgruntled morning noises, Ned got dressed. Throwing on a generic t-shirt and jeans Ned left the comfort of his tiny room to wake his mother.

His mother who worked at night and slept all day, and who Ned inherited her largeness and hate of mornings. Ned was one of those people who doctors would always smile and say,

“You’re a bit over the healthy weight ratio.”

As if the asthma and worry of diabetes at the age of 40 didn’t make him feel bad enough. He wandered into his mother’s room and shook her a bit dodging the stay hand that came his way when she turned over.

“No. Go away.”

“You gotta get up, mother.”

“I said go away, ya fat asshole.”

“Oh yeah, this coming from you, the picture of health, and a gleaming personality” Ned snarked back shaking his mother once again. She needed to get up to make sure Ned’s younger brothers got off to school.

“Don’t talk to your mother like that, ungrateful brat.”

“Sorry, mommy dearest.” Ned responded wandering away to finish getting ready figuring if his mother was awake enough to argue it’d be fine. He brushed his teeth, combed his unruly brown hair, and did the other typical morning hygiene things while trying not to think about his first day of High School. He wandered into the kitchen the clock telling him he had 10 minutes to catch his bus. Rolling his eyes at a box of cereal on top of the fridge, Ned simply poured himself a glass of orange juice and downed it quickly. As fat as he was, he never really cared for breakfast choosing to skip it most days.

He opened his door and walked out with five minutes till his bus arrived with a final loud goodbye to make sure his mother didn’t go back to sleep. He didn’t wait for a response, closing the door behind him and immediately jamming headphones into his ears, while mumbling to himself about how it was too early for the sun to be out. Even the music blasting in Ned’s ears wasn’t enough to drown out of the sound of the buses brakes crying out in pain as it slowed to a stop in front of Ned’s house.

He glanced around as he made his way up the 3 little steps, giving a half nod to the bus driver as he boarded. He sent a small prayer to a God he didn’t believe in when he saw he was the first stop and had pick of the seats. He had heard horror stories of the Seniors ruling the back of the bus and the awful things they did to people stupid enough to take a seat back there that wasn’t in their circle of friends, so he settled for a nice middle seat. The one with the emergency fire exit door, so if the bus’s brakes finally died like they sounded like they would most the time he could at least make an attempt to escape.

[DistortedReality]

This has nothing to do with Nanowrimo but it's the poem that got published in my school's lit magazine. Due to some oversights it didn't get put into the physical copy but it got added to the online version.

Spoiler: When We Were Young 

When we were young,
Way back between too long and
so close
They told us we could be whatever
we wanted to be.
But we soon found out that,
Sticks and stones could not only
break bones,
But crush dreams.

Because see when I was young,
I wanted to be a knight.
Like the kind found in fairy
tales,
The ones with endless bravery
The ones who went on countless
adventures and always,
Came out on top.

But, along with the realization
that I was too fat to fit into
armor
Nor strong enough to lift a
sword,
I saw kids shrugging off fairy
tale futures,
And laughing at those who
haven’t caught up yet.
So I armored myself in jokes,
And wits became my sword.
So my fairy tales became a distant
memory,
Set on some long forgotten shelf
that still needs dusting.

But it wasn’t all bad,
Being a kid.
We were free to wear our hearts
on our sleeves
And we didn’t know who Icarus
was,
Making shooting for the moon
all the less scary.
And being buried in stuffed animals
instead of homework,
Was a lot more fun.

And if I’m killing this poem with
cliches,
That’s okay.
Because I’d rather be killing
poems than killing time,
Because poems can be rewritten,
They can be checked, double
checked, and edited.
But time,
Time is forever moving forward,
With no backspace button.

When we were young the question
was always,
“What do you want to be when
you grow up?”
I think I finally found the answer.

When I grow up,
I want to, be.

I'm actually very myeh on the ending and wanted to add more to it but time restraints prevented me. May end up doing it here

[DistortedReality]

Spoiler: Stop. 

Stop.

a four letter word for "quit it"
because 3 across was beer,
and if you take one down and pass it around
You still have a drunk stepdad sitting on the wall.

Stop.

Because your mother asked you what 1/4 + 1/4 was
and how to spell, "Conflicting"
Because you feel that urge to call her out,

Stop.

Just

Breath in

Breath out

Stop.