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Waking up wasn’t as easy as it was for everybody else for Kenny.
Waking up meant another cruel, grueling pathetic day as his parents tormented him for being different. His mom tried, she always did, but deep down, Kenny could tell his mom didn’t completely accept it as well. It was apart of his religion, apart of his ancestry, apart of his bloodline. Unfortunately he would never be able to change that part of him, sometimes he thinks that’ll be fine, but once he goes to the dining room and sees his father with a newspaper, not even acknowledging his appearance, he realizes it’ll never be fine.
It hurts, but Kenny wouldn’t admit it, he’d smile it off and laugh like he always does. His life has changed though, after coming out, some for the better and some for the worse.
He came out to his parents, it felt amazing at first but once they kicked him out he didn’t realize they weren’t messing around anymore. He would always be the mistake of the family.
He then moved into the Gold family's house, where he was accepted—shockingly so, Mr. Gold had always been openly unsupportive.
Even with the good stuff comes bad stuff, after Larry found it, it felt as if they separated a bit. Larry swore it was just that he was upset at him for not telling him because he thought they were best friends, but, Kenny can tell, he always can. Larry and him were always close, they were freaks and the freaks had to stay together but it seemed that Larry was now too good for him.
He never heard Larry say it and probably never will but Kenny feels as if Larry is ashamed of Kenny, embarrassed that he was friends with a queer and never knew.
It hurt just thinking about it, Kenny has known Larry long enough for a telepathic bond between them to form, he always knows what Larry is thinking.
So when he looks into Larry’s eyes and sees that glint of judgement painting his irises, his heart and mind begins to race.
Sometimes he just laughs it off but when he’s laying awake at night, the only thing lighting up his room is the moonlight, he thinks and thinks—too much.
There is where he’d cry, where he’d let the almost overflowing pool of tears flow over. Nonetheless he pretends that Larry likes him, after all he’s still hanging out with him and acting as if everything is normal.
When looking at Larry before coming out, everything calmed down, but now, it’s the complete opposite.
Some nights Kenny would stay awake, sitting on the ground near his bed while his back is pressed against his bed frame and stare, just stare. He’s not too sure at what he’s staring at, but he just stares.
A lot of the time when Kenny wakes up and listens to his father insult him unknowing that Kenny was just around the corner, the world turns blurry and as if he’s in a dream. He likes when the world turns this way, he finally feels normal and the thoughts don’t turn overwhelming, they’re normal for once. He acts differently when in that state though, does things he’d never do if he realized he was alive.
It’s fine, it’s always fine, even if it isn’t, it’s always fine.
Kenny loves movies, he’s watched enough to know what’s good acting and what’s not, he out of all people would be fool to anyone.
The only person he wasn’t able to fool was Mrs. Gold, she could see right though him as if he were a ghost, transparent.
It impressed him he couldn’t lie, it felt good for someone to notice him for once. Larry never could tell, nor could anyone else, but his own best friends mother could better than Larry could. It hurt but it felt good, it felt good to know he was good at something—even if the thing he was good at for once was hiding his feelings.
She felt motherly, like how his mother should be. His mom was great, he loves her, she became more bossy around his father, it was odd. She somewhat acted like Mrs. Gold now, but it hurt him knowing he still preferred Mrs. Gold over his own mom.
Once he found out what happened for his mom to get Kenny back, it hurt even more. If it weren’t for Mrs. Gold, she’d never come back to get him, she wouldn’t have the courage to. He knew she cared for him, just didn’t know that she didn’t care for him enough to stand up to her husband to get back her own child.
How could anyone hate their child, thats what Kenny thinks every single day. He looks at his father and thinks it, he looks at himself in the mirror and he thinks it, he looks at other people’s parents and them hanging out and thinks it. He couldn’t help the thoughts to pop up, he was treated like garbage everyday by his father.
When Kenny saw how his father looked when his mom was controlling him around when they went to bring him home, he had a shimmer of hope. The next day however, that small fire of hope was put out with a bucket of water when he came downstairs and saw that everything was the same. That nothing changed, that his father would hate him nonetheless.
Before, he told Larry that his father just hated him and that he didn’t really have a reason to hate him, now his father found one, that he was different. That he was a queer, a gay, a faggot.
Kenny knew that that’s why his father hated him, there was no doubt about it in his mind. He could tell that his father knew his secret, was it ever a secret if everybody could tell.
Sometimes just not saying anything is better, even if it feels better to admit it.
Ever since he left the closet, he’d get heavily bullied, to the point he’d have bruises blossoming under his clothes, ones that became swollen and every limb hurt when it moved just the tiniest bit. Larry didn’t know, they were practically attached to the hip from how close they were, but now Larry would just look the other way and drool over some chicks not even caring about Kenny.
When he took a shower he stares at the purple, red bruises and poked at them, feeling the pain spread through his body, making him remember he existed. That thought was meant to make him feel better, it never did. It made him feel worse, realizing that he was real, he was a human, he had organs, flesh, bones, blood, body heat. He was real, so why did everybody treat him as if he wasn’t.
He felt invisible all of the time, even during the times he’d get beaten, whether that be by people at school, or his father, he didn’t feel visible. He never did, he always felt the same everyday.
Larry couldn’t see him, his mom couldn’t see him, his father couldn’t see him, Mr. Gold couldn’t see him, Mrs. Gold couldn’t see him, even he couldn’t see himself.
At night, sometimes he’d kneel and press his elbows to his bed and just pray. He wasn’t Christian but at nights like this he just prayed that God would be on his side. It worked for others, why would it work for him, right?
It seemed that God didn’t care for him, never would care for him. If God did care for him, they’d make his life easier, make others less judgmental. Maybe he was getting tested, he had to persist through a challenge so God knew he was worthy, but he had been doing that all his life, why couldn’t they throw him a bone for once.
He’s sinned in his life, not because he was gay but because he was have unholy thoughts and feelings, because he felt lust. He wasn’t allowed such things, but he thought it all of the time when hanging out with Larry, it came too easily to him. He thought of anal sex, God forbids such things. He was a sinner and he’d never get the approval from God, they’re always watching.
During this nights however, they were always worse the day after he prayed, his father wouldn’t just throw him away and ignore him, he’d brutally beat him down—verbally and sometimes physically. It never felt like God was on his side. He didn’t even know why he attempted anymore at that point.
He thought about death a lot. How much better it would be when he dies, how much worse It’d be when he dies.
Days after a violent beating by his father or his bullies, he’d stare at the red glow of his alarm clock and just watch at the time passes wishing that one it strikes midnight, he’d fall greatly ill and cease to exist.
However it wouldn’t happen, when he realizes it, he sometimes goes to the bathroom and opens up the compartment in his mirror and stare at the orange tinted bottles, wondering if he should get it over with. Wondering if anybody would miss him, that they probably wouldn’t, matter of a fact, they’d be glad since he was a nuisance.
When the thoughts became to much he’d grab a one, stare at the cylinder and grip it so hard the plastic would warp, before putting it back and turning on his sink to freezing cold water.
He wasn’t afraid of death, not afraid of whatd after death, rather he was afraid of who would find him. Would it be his mom, his father?
If it were his father, his mom, his friends, they’d never know. His father wouldn’t care enough to tell anybody, just hide him and curse himself for having a useless child and spending hard earned money on a disappointment.
He ignored every thought.
Until one day, he went back to the bathroom, went back to the bottles, and did it.
He didn’t care anymore, he had bruises littered all throughout his body and nobody thought about him anymore.
He felt as the pills went down, there were tons and tons of them. He thought he’d throw them up but, he didn’t. It didn’t come immediately of course, so he waited, he sat on the bathroom floor. The world was blurry and dreamlike again and he took the pills, he wouldn’t have done it if he were feeling all right.
The feelings overwhelmed him, his heart started to burn and his head started throbbing uncontrollably. He felt horrible, his stomach was churning and every part of him hurt. He just laid there, forgetting the life he lived. He was glad he was finally doing it, it was all too much, he couldn’t take it anymore.
As the world began to cave around him, he felt as if he were looking at the world through a tube, everything went out.