Moon Adrift

June 21st, 2024

8:00 AM

The alarm’s sudden blaring makes me jolt upwards in surprise. Typically I would be inclined to sleep in, but I find my nerves are on edge this morning. It takes me a bit to recall what happened yesterday, which makes me deflate by the second. I’ve got at best a couple of weeks before my residence at the dorms is up, and I already know I’m not going to stay until then. There’s class in the morning, but the cat is already out of the bag, so I’ll be absent for the rest of the semester. What’s the point of keeping up the charade now, right?

I think about getting breakfast, but then something else dawns on me. No matter how I look at it, I have to go back to live with my folks. The idea makes my stomach twist with shame. I don’t want to be anywhere near them right now, or even in a few months.

They told me I had to start acting like a man. That I need to earn my own way. In this city, in this world, where a few decades ago it was still possible, but they’re so fucking out of touch they don’t realize even if I worked a job it wouldn’t even cover rent on a single bedroom flat. They probably think we’re still in the 1980s, for fuck’s sake.

Making my way to the bathroom to wash my face and try to shake off this building frustration, I manage to trip on my own feet and fall in front of the door with a thud.

Eek!

A weird high-pitched sound from on the other side of the entrance to my unit catches my attention. It makes me stop for a second.

“… Cordelia?” I ask hesitantly.

There’s a bit of shuffling before she knocks on the door. I get up but stop before touching the knob. Why should I open it? Wait, that’s not the weirdest thing. Why is she even here?

“What are you doing here?” I ask with more than a bit of skepticism.

She seems a bit put out but eventually answers my question. “Alright, look. Your folks told me to check up on you and I was waiting for you to get up but didn’t want to wake you so I just decided to wait out here until you did!” she tells me, a little too quickly.

That makes zero sense. Why would Cordelia know my folks? “What are you talking about? Why would you be in contact with them?”

There are a few moments of silence before she gives up and tells me, but I’ve got a feeling by then. “Our parents know each other, didn’t you know? They went here when they were young, too.”

So, my folks have been using Cordelia to keep tabs on me and to make sure they had justification to kick my ass to the curb. That’s the reason she’s always bothering me. Why she is always coming up to me and asking to hang out or talk about stupid shit. It was never out of a sense of concern or nothing. It was just to keep an eye on me.

“… You’ve been spying on me? Pretending to be friendly just so you could report to them about what I’ve been doing?”

Cordelia gasps and quickly backpedals. “What? No! I really do want to be friends! It’s just that they’re worried and called me to check up on you because you weren’t answering their messages!”

I should have found it odd how they always seemed to have me cornered anytime we had an argument. Maybe I’m a piece of shit for always trying to duck away from responsibility, but they had this bitch keeping an eye on me since when? Since I got here? Fucking hell…

“Bishop, open the door. Please? I just want to talk…”

That does it. I’m done with everyone’s shit. I need to take some time for myself, as ironic as that is given I’ve been a filthy NEET since high school. I get what my situation looks like to an outsider, but if everything were so easy I would have already gotten out of this depression.

“No. Just leave me alone already. I have nothing to say to any of you.”

She’s clearly frustrated as I hear her shuffle on the other side of the door, but I don’t know how else to put it. If she doesn’t leave, I’m not going to bother sugar coating it.

“Bishop! Please just come out, okay? Nothing is going to change if you keep holed up in your room all day!” she says, pleading as if she actually gives a shit. Of course, this has nothing to do with me personally. Everything she says, does, and thinks about is always actually about her image. Like most girls, Cordelia loves attention, and she’s not above being pretentious to get it.

I’m not in the mood for her bullshit. I’ve been putting up with her for long enough. It’s time to get this over with. “So if I come out you’ll be happy?” I ask her.

“Yeah! If you’d just come with me and hang out a bit I’m sure we can get you the help you need! I know how bad you must feel being alone all the time so please, let me help you.”

I can’t help but scowl involuntarily. “You want me to get out more? Is that it?”

“Bishop, I know you don’t want anyone to bother you, but if you’d just let me help you I know we could be good friends!” she tells me, hopeful.

“You don’t want to help me. All you want is to hear the sound of your own fucking voice. Can’t you take a hint? I don’t want to be your friend, you dumb bitch!”

There’s a pause and I can’t hear a sound, but she breaks the silence promptly with a completely different tone to the one she’s been using so far.

“Take that back.”

I don’t fucking think so. “Take what back?”

“I don’t like the sound of my own voice, Bishop. Take it back!” she demands.

“You could have fooled me. All day all you do is yap away until you get your way. What, is the attention of the whole fucking school not good enough? Do you have to frig yourself in front of everyone before you’re satisfied?” I snarl all my frustration out at her.

A moment or two go by, as if she’s considering something. Then she tells me how she really feels.

“… Bishop? I think you’re the biggest fucking loser on campus. I don’t know why I thought I should involve myself with a filthy freak like you. And you know what? It’s not like anyone would even give a shit if you fucking killed yourself.” Cordelia tells me with venomous intent. It catches me by surprise, leaving her with the final word. Despite her clear contempt, I can hear Cordelia sobbing as she runs away.

… Good riddance.

***

June 27th, 2024

7:14 PM

It’s been nearly a week since I last spoke to anyone and the fridge is looking kind of empty. I’ve got a bottle of ketchup, two sodas, and a small bag of chips. I’m going to have to make a trip down to the local convenience store, it looks like.

The last time I took a shower was… Oh man. When was it? Three? Four weeks ago?

Groaning, I close the fridge door and try to imagine what I could get away with ignoring today. I don’t want to do anything or talk to anyone, obviously, but if I don’t take a shower I can only imagine the unwanted attention from people I pass. I wish I were invisible. At least then I would be able to go out without a care in the world. Unfortunately, the only superpower I have is self-destruction.

It’s not like I’ll be out for long, so I decide on just going really quick and coming back. Picking up my jacket and keys, I’m out the door. Walking out the residence I’m nearly outside of campus when I hear some noise off to my right. Looking over, I notice a group pointing in my direction.

“Oh shit! Look, he’s out of his cave!” said one of the guys.

“Gross. Don’t let him touch you, I bet he’s contagious.” another girl joins in.

I wouldn’t pay much attention to this if it wasn’t for one thing that makes me freeze. Cordelia Mason is in the middle looking at me with an expression of pure and utter disdain. Her sunny smile might as well have never existed because once I look her in the eyes, she looks back at me as if I’ve always been walking shit.

As she makes to leave, her group follows, laughing and jabbing at me before they make it far enough away, leaving me to find myself.

For a couple of moments I just stood there like a deer in headlights. With the feeling of an anxiety attack gaining momentum, my first impulse I get is to just run back to my place, but then I wouldn’t have anything to eat. The best thing to do right now is to just go to the convenience store and return home as soon as possible.

I’ve never really had any enemies, but I can tell I’ve got some now. Despite how evasive I can be, I feel oddly vulnerable at this very moment. I’ve never really been bullied. No more than anyone else with passing jabs and snarky comments, but leaving my room today feels like a mistake.

It takes me a few minutes on shaky legs to make it to the convenience store a few blocks away. In all the time since I’d left my room I haven’t given a single thought to what I was supposed to get. It isn’t a comfortable feeling knowing they might have followed me here and could corner me somewhere to really get me back for what I said to Cordelia.

Looking to my left I notice I’m inside and see the glass door where the sodas are. I give myself a once-over. I’m shorter than even most of the girls. At just below 4 foot 10 inches, I’m not intimidating at all. My sedentary lifestyle shows as my arms are skinny and my frame is narrow. My eyes are baggy, and my hair is even more of a mess than it was a week ago. I haven’t bothered to take care of myself at all, and looking down at my hands I see my nails are longer than they should be.

Unable to stomach any more, I turn away in disgust. I’ve always thought my prospects would be rather limited due to my height, but aside from that I still feel so downtrodden all the time... I’m not even sure where I could possibly look to muster up some confidence, either. I feel like a lost cause.

I wasn’t always this insecure…

After a few minutes I end up just getting peanuts, some water, and a box of cup-noodles. This would last most people a few days, but it lasts me a week. It’s enough for what I’ve started to consider since I spoke with my parents, and after this little wake-up call I’m all too certain about it.

The cashier gives me a sneer as I pay for my stuff. Looking up at his gaunt face we have a silent understanding. I know I smell like rancid shit, and he knows I couldn’t give a fuck what he thinks.

With my heart racing the whole time I’m outside, I feel relief as I finally make it back to my room. Grabbing my backpack from under the bed I throw it on the desk. The empty notebook within is going to come in handy for what I’m planning.

Turning on my PC I surf the web to find what I’m looking for. Picking up my Pen, I write some steps as I begin the preparations. I’m leaving this shithole and going away for a month-long camping trip in the eastern mountains of Seattle.

I’ve had enough of other people and I don’t want to put up with this shit anymore. The sooner I get out of this place, the better.