austin

     my name is austin. i am quote, unquote popular. i fucking hate that word, but that is unimportant to the story i am trying to tell you here. the story i am trying to tell is about me. about my life. and about how fucking disgusting of a human being i am.
     i am the quarterback who is, stereotypically, dating the hottest girl at my school. and she is, stereotypically again, the head cheerleader. i am currently playing usnavi, the lead, in our school musical in the heights. i live in a house that is far too big for a family of three. one of those houses with a movie theatre in the basement. the ones with a huge ass pool and two jacuzzis, just for the hell of it. and my parents are just slightly too perfect.
     my life is like a fucking john hughes movie and i hate myself for it.
     kids look at me with envy in their eyes. as they should. on the surface, my life is fucking perfect.
     me? i am far from perfect.
     this life seems to have been given to the wrong boy. because i sure as hell don't deserve it. i don't deserve the money and the love and the school that treats me like a god. i don't deserve these things my parents keep buying me and i sure as hell don't deserve my parents. you see, my mother got very sick when she was pregnant with me. the doctor told her to abort, but my mother stubbornly and foolishly refused. the doctor told her i would kill her and the chances of my survival were only 2%, she said i was worth the risk. like how the fuck can you tell me i deserve a mother like that? a fucking goddess. but somehow the goddess gave birth to the demon that is me. my parents call me their little miracle. but i am far from a miracle. i’m more of a… what is the antonym of miracle? a catastrophe? a cataclysm? an apocalypse?
     i don't know. all i know is i'm no miracle. and i don't deserve the praise this world so foolishly bestows upon me.
     
     my mother tells me i spend too many saturday nights alone at home. you see, my cell phone is always blowing up at the dinner table with party invitations. and my mother wonders why i never accept them.
     it’s because i already know how the party will go. the same way it always does.
     i’ll walk in and immediately all eyes will be on me. where they will remain for the duration of the party. i’ll get far too drunk, just trying to forget my horrendous existence. i’ll end up fighting with my girlfriend. she, rightfully so, doesn't trust a single bone in my pathetic body. she won't like the way amber or rebekah are looking at me. lustful eyes and bitten lower lips. shirts hanging a little too low. and skirts just a little too short. and my girlfriend will be right to not like their stares. considering i fucked them both just last week. we'll argue. she'll leave. upset. and i won't even bother chasing her. i never do. i'll be far too drunk and i'll probably have another girl or two under my arms before the door even fully slams shut with her departure.
     guys will look at me with jealousy in their eyes. girls will look at me with sex on their mind.
     i am a horrible human being.
     and my girlfriend is not. here, i have named two girls who i fucked and i haven't even mentioned my girlfriend's name yet.
     it is jenifer. that’s her name. and jenifer is fucking perfect. angelic. far too good for a person like me. like everything else in my life. but god keeps handing me more shit i don't need. nor deserve. and i just keep taking it. greed on my fingertips. i take and i take and i take.
     so, i'd rather spend saturday nights at home.
     though i'd be lying if i said i didn't respond to rebekah's text at 2 am. twenty minutes later, she was climbing through my bedroom window and we fucked a couple times.
     and jenifer never once crept into my mind. i was too lost in rebekah's skin.


     on friday afternoons, during football season, my school puts on pep rallies in the cafeteria. the bleachers fill and for thirty minutes my school treats us football players like royalty. me being their king.
     the cheerleaders, including jenifer and amber and rebekah, all come out and dance. then the band plays a song. then the principal asks me to come out and lead the school in our rally chant.
     they fucking worship me.
     those idiots.
     ​can’t they see?
     i'm no god. just a pathetic excuse for a human being. sure, i can throw a football sixty yards, but does that really make me worthy of all this? this fucking rally and all these girls with my name painted on their shirts and all these guys who threaten anyone who looks at me slightly the wrong way.
     and that's just friday afternoons.
     you have no idea about the shit these people do on friday nights.
     the entire stadium fills to the point of overcapacity. with boys who want to be me and girls who want to fuck me and parents who wish their kids would be exactly like me and my perfect parents who never miss even a single fucking one of my games. they will be there cheering the loudest. holding signs with my name on them. they fucking love me so much.
     and all i do is spoil it.
     all i do is spoil everything.
     but not on the field. on the field, i am golden. i haven't lost a game in my four-year high school career. colleges from all over the nation won't stop calling me. offering me cars and clothes and shoes on the low. i have thirteen gold chains at home that i've never worn. all from colleges i won't even legitimately consider attending.
     but i'll take every free thing they offer me. like i said, i have greedy fingertips.
     and i always win. every goddamn friday night. the boys and the girls rush the field. the first one to hug me is always jenifer. every fucking time, it is jenifer. that girl loves me so much when she's sober. before the alcohol finally forces her to stand up for herself. before the alcohol reminds her that she is better than this pathetic affection i pretend to give her. when she's sober she is so goddamn insecure. thinking she deserves the bullshit i am constantly giving her. and i know i'm to blame. for her insecurities. before me, she held her head high and her shoulders back. before me, she was always smiling. so carefree. but of course, i fucked that all up. that’s all i ever seem to do. i made her insecure. made her feel like she needs to fight for love. when she shouldn't.      she deserves the whole goddamn world. but she got stuck with me, instead.
     i wish she would just leave me, already. because i am far too weak to leave, myself. and i am far too selfish to give up somebody as incredible as her.
     friday nights.
     i fucking hate myself the most on friday nights.
     because deep down, i think they're fucking right to worship me.
     i am a god on that field.


     but off the field, i am the fucking devil.
     i break hearts and fuck anyone with a low enough self-esteem to climb through my window at 2 am. i wonder how the rest of the world doesn't see it. it’s so damn obvious. the whole goddamn world is either blind or naive or ignorant or maybe they just need something to worship. and foolishly they chose me.
     my parents think i am some perfect child. my teachers think i'm some fucking prodigy. my theatre director thinks i could be the next leonardo, you know, if football doesn't work out. girls are always stuffing their panties in my locker. and guys are always fist bumping me every time i walk past them in the hall.
     only jenifer knows who i really am. but she is too fucking insecure to do anything about it. she comes to my house every morning with a cup of iced coffee and a croissant. every fucking morning. without fail. then she drives me to school in the red bmw her daddy bought her on her sixteenth birthday.
     she doesn't say a word about my antics that past weekend. she just goes on with the conversation as if everything were so fucking dandy. like our life was some fairytale and we're the prince and princess who live happily ever after.
     she doesn't mention amber or rebekah or any of the other rumors circulating the school halls. all of which were probably true. there aren't many girls i  won't fuck.
     jenifer knows my flaws. the evilness that flows through my veins. the fraud behind the smile. but she does nothing about it. she just grabs my hand and parades me through the halls. as if our love deserved to be on some fucking pedestal. maybe she has watched too many movies--tricked herself into believing that she has no other choice but to date the hot quarterback. it’s just a goddamn john hughes movie. and we're just living the fucking american high school dream.
     but i can't blame this all on her. i am a goddamn smooth talker. i could talk myself out of prison only moments after committing murder in front of the cops' and judges' and juries' very eyes. many times, jenifer has walked in on me mid-fuck. and every single time i end up fucking her before the night is over.
     i am the goddamn snake that convinced eve to eat the apple.
     or maybe jenifer is eve. and i am the apple she bit. and now she is stuck to live with her sin.


     i should kill myself. i know that i should. it only makes sense. if the world refuses to see me for the piece of shit that i am, if jenifer won't leave me, if my parents won't stop drowning me with all this love, if god won't stop handing me the whole goddamn world on a golden platter, if i can't stop my silver tongue, then maybe it is my responsibility to rid the earth of me. before i burn the whole thing down.
     i stole my father's gun a few months back. i have it lying loaded beneath my bed right this very moment. many nights, i have sat on my bed with his gun in my hand. staring down the barrel. trying to will myself to shoot my fucking brains out. but i just can't seem to do it.
     i may fucking hate myself, but i am far too egotistical to end my own life.
     i may be a devil, but at times i can be a fucking god.
     and sometimes the world needs both.
     or maybe they just need something to worship.
     ​or maybe i'm just the apple eve decided to bite. and now the world must live with their sin.