~Zorath Oseph~----A Few Weeks Ago----Zorath sat at the dinner table across from his father, gazing at him through hate filled eyes. He hadn't told him about the new school yet, not that he cared. He probably didn't even cared that he was alive. He was too fucking busy talking to his retarded older sister.
"Oh dad, I'm going to go into law school!" "Oh dad, I'm in the Honor's Society!" "Oh dad, I got accepted into the country's best college!" Fucking annoying, if you'd ask him. In fact, you're probably better off asking him.
'Will somebody please shut her up!' he thought, as he tried to drown her voice out with his hands. His mother sat idly next to him, trying to ignore the ramblings of his younger brother, who clung to his mother's side like a tiny fruit bat, complaining about tonight's dinner. This was his family, a stuck up sister, and a baby of a younger brother. His tough as nails father, sweet mother. It was one of those families that any average joe would take one look at and think it a normal, respectable family. But truthfully, they were all idiots, as much as Zorath could tell. Worthless idiots that were an embarrassment to all of human kind. He knew telling them that he was going to let them rot in their idiocy was worthless. Just like completely rebelling against the status quo was useless. When he began dressing like a punk, all that earned him was a look of disapproval. Otherwise he didn't even exist. Well fuck them, he didn't ask to be apart of this God forsakened family.
'If I stood up and left would they even notice?' he thought, trying this theory out by walking away from his untouched dinner. And nobody seemed to had noticed.
'Thought so.'Zorath remembered a few days afterwords, when he finally mentioned to his father where he was going to school that year. All his father uttered was a single word of acknowledgment, left him at a department store to buy his own damn clothes, and then forgot that he had even mentioned it.
But he preferred it that way. He rather enjoyed this life of solitary. As long as no one talked shit about him, it didn't matter. Because no matter where you go, you're life was as useless as everyone around you. He knew people talked shit about him at his old school. Perhaps for the way he dressed, or how he carried himself, or how he seemed to disappear from class in the middle of the lecture, but still managed to pass. Oh he knew. But not once did he try anything. Either it was due to pure laziness, or something completely beaten the motivation out of him. Perhaps it was the abusive relationship he and his father had when he was a child, when he refused to do any sports, or anything considered "manly", and instead spent his childhood reading and questioning his father on "why?". Why must he obey him, if anybody? All that questioning nature of the past, was kept to himself now that he discovered it wasn't even worth it. Because in the end, when compared to your sister, all that you were was trash.
Such a thing caused him great disgust, and turned him into the very being he was today.
Disgust that would probably last until the bitter end.
~Today~Skateboarding was a way to keep him occupied, and the only form of sport he actually bothered trying. His own reasoning was simple. When the wind carried you, it was like the world around you disappeared, and you were the only one there. He could just glide across the hardened concrete, and just not give a shit, and no one would stop him. Otherwise, he'd just listen to
music, as he was doing now. Music that people would otherwise find repulsive, he found a sick enjoyment in. As with the memory of blasting such music at full volume as a child, and seeing that angered expression on his father's face. For some reason, such images that would otherwise frighten him as a child, brought him great comfort now. If that was the only time his father would regard his existence, so be it.
Profane words and ideas. That was his family.
That was his inheritance.
Such thinking, that began with people like Socrates, who dared to face death in the name of "corruption" and "heresy". Such figures would continue to live on despite society's foolish denial of the truth, that they were all a bunch of brainless fucktards who deserved to return to the ground as dust from which they came. It was safe to say that Zorath was proud to wear his uniform. Despite his sloppy, uncaring appearance; The necktie wasn't even untied, the shirt untucked, the blazer inside out and unbuttoned, pockets stuck out. In fact, it was as if it just got out of the wash, and was thrown in some dirty corner of the room. This partially due to another argument he got into with his dad, concerning his sleeping habits the other night. He didn't even get to prepare for the school day since it dragged on for so long. Apparently his father actually, in a stroke of irony,
wanted him to speak, so much that he made a big deal out of it, and kept the entire neighborhood awake. Eventually it got so ridiculous that Zorath decided that since his father wanted him to talk so damn much, he'd give them a nice "Go fuck yourself". Unfortunately that only worked to keep him and everyone else up longer, and now he was cruising through the hallways on a fucking, skull themed skateboard with tacky wheels, and loud, obnoxious music blasting through headphones with yellow smileys on theme which stuck their tongues out at every passerby, as if that would actually work to keep him awake.
When he finally reached the appropriate classroom, Zorath almost forgot it was there, as he was already falling to sleep. Only when he did a double take did he notice where he was supposed to be. Gliding backwards, he poked a head through the doorway, both hands on the sides, looking around the room, hoping that class already started. Much to his dismay and annoyance, the teacher wasn't even there. There was only a bunch of losers inside, sitting by the fucking window, well, most of them at least. At least one other person, as he noticed was trying to fight off sleep. Strong little fucker. Everyone else, he was uninterested in. He didn't even notice the mud on the floor, and when he did, he just stared right past it. Fuck. He didn't care. Getting off his skateboard, he stepped in it anyways. Only managing to glance for a second at the girl with mud on her shoes, silently judging her, deciding that it was best that he just got as far away from these people as possible. Somebody was going to come in and start something, and he didn't want to be near it when it happens. So, in an act of rebellion, he sat all the way in the back, to the far left of the class,
away from windows. He didn't like the sunlight that much to tell the truth, and didn't understand why anyone would want in the sun anyways. Such a thing only served to blind your eyes and keep you from sleeping. Setting down the ugly bag his father was
so kind as to lent him, and his personal skateboard on the opposite side of him, he obliged himself some sleep until the teacher comes to class, since, you know, he didn't get ANY last night.
'Thanks dad' he thought before falling prey to slumber, not caring whether or not anyone was bothered by his audible music.
