How long had it been now? minutes, hours, months...years?

It had seemed like forever since I hadn't been addicted to the sweet nicotine that slowly escaped my lungs as I exhaled. looking around again I saw someone turn the corner of the school and squinted my eyes, trying to see if the figure was a security guard.

In the end, it was just some random girl minding her own business, probably heading to the senior parking lot to get her car. I let out another puff of the gray smoke that had just been absorbed by my lungs.

May as well start heading home.

Pushing myself up I threw the white cancer stick down, crushing it with my converse before heading in the direction of my neighborhood. It was a small quiet, perfect, private neighborhood with a gate so that no trespassers could get in. 

I swiped my card and waited for the large metal gates to open as I continued walking down the street. I always laughed when I entered, everything was so perfect around here. Large houses painted white with perfectly cut grass, and then there was me.

If you didn't know I lived here you would probably call the cops, I didn't look like I belonged. All black clothing, the only bit of color being my denim jacket. 

As I walked down the street towards my house, 637, I wondered if anyone was home yet or if they were all at the community meeting. Last I knew, they were talking about replacing the gate since some druggies climbed it two weeks ago and vandalized a few places.

A lot of people tried to blame me.

But I didn't care, I never cared. It was just my attitude towards this whole place. If they didn't give a shit about me then I wouldn't give a shit about them.

It wasn't always like that, though. I used to be one of them, the perfect boy with the perfect family. Two parents, a stay at home mom and a dad as a lawyer and a twin sister. But that had changed when we reached high school and our parents gave us a chance to go to public school.

My sister, Emily, she chose to stay at the catholic school where we were raised. I, however, chose to adventure out of the community and start at the public high school down the street. It was, for me at least, the best thing I'd ever done. However, I know my parents regret it every day.

By the end of freshman year, I had changed so much. It was minor, I still believed in god, was straight, went to church and community meetings every week but I came home smelling like an ashtray. It wasn't long after that when I stopped participating in a lot of family and community things.

It was almost sad how much I didn't care anymore. My brain was dull as if instead of blood my body pumped Novocaine. No one knew how much it hurt going home every day and having to deal with these people. They didn't yell, they didn't punish me, they were abusive but sometimes I wished they were.

They never did anything but smile and act as if everything was okay. Hell, I could cuss for 5 minutes in front of them and all I would get it a "got it all out of your system now?" from my dad and a "Please dont use such words anymore" from my mom. There was no yelling, no rinsing my mouth out with soap, nothing, just two small comments.

I think my parents weren't always like this, maybe they were just like me when they were young but at this point they were boring. It was like their who aesthetic was to be the perfect christian parents. We were a cliche perfect family, we were catholic, had more money then we would ever need, had no mental or physical illnesses and fit perfectly into the status quo.

Well we did.

I seemed to change all that when I had started to go to the public high school. I wasn't christian, I didn't wear the most popular clothing brands, I wasn't straight and my counselor has been recommending therapy to my parents. Not to mention I would probably end up with lung cancer.

I opened the door thinking all this and entered a quiet house, if a pin had dropped you could hear it. I didn't care, I liked being home alone, I didn't have to act like everything was okay. I trudged up the stairs and made my way to my bedroom throwing my back pack on the floor and letting my body fall to my bed with a thud.

I looked at my window where the sun was shining into the otherwise dark abiss of a room. I took my cigarettes out and grabbed my ashtray dragging it over to me before lighting up another cancer stick. I wondered what it was like for other people, like my friends, who had a normal life.

normal.

Nothing was normal, it was just different. If anything my life would be seen as 'normal'. I sighed and watched as the smoke which had just exited my lungs swirled in the air. I watched as it danced in the rays of sun before swiftly being pulled into the cool October air by the wind from my ajar window.

Before I could take another drag off of the cancerous stick that was being held in my hand I heard the roar of an engine I knew to well. I slowly took another inhale as I listened for the door to unlock and my mother to yell.

"James, we're home, come down we have food from the meeting."

I rolled my eyes as I heard my mothers high pitched voice echo through the hallways. I put out the half smoked cigarette and laid it in the ashtray for a later time. I opened my room instantly being hit by the bright sunlight coming from the large window that shone down on our staircase. Trudging down the stairs, I already knew my mother would be sat at the kitchen with the food already warmed and try to talk me into coming back.

"James, there you are"

She smiled but I couldn't help noticing how her nose twitched at the sudden stench of nicotine which I knew lingered with me at all times. I sat down across from her on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

"How was your day?"

"It was fine."

"How's school going?"

"Fine."

"How are your grades?"

"They're fine."

She scrunched up her eyebrows, making wrinkles apear, the ones that she was always trying so hard to hide. I let out a breathy laugh and looked at all the open containers of food. I was reaching for some of the mashed sweet potatoes when her voice interupted me and my hand stopped.

"How's your mood?"

"Its fine."

"James, you can talk to me you know. I think It would be a great idea to start coming to community meeting, a woman named Janice just moved here, shes a psychiatrist an-"

I stopped her as I scooped baked beans on my almost full plate.

"No, mom, I'm not going. I know what you're trying to do, you're trying to hide that anything is wrong and you think if you keep everything tight knit and it the community that you cant act like everything still perfect. Well its not mom, nothing is. Everyone knows dad is cheating with his secretary, Sophie is going through a mental break down trying to keep good grades and I know you keep a stash of alcohol in your dresser. Nothing is perfect and you cant fix it."

I picked up my plate and turned on my heal heading towards the stairs. I heard my mom say my name trying to stop me but I didn't stop, I didn't look back, it was time for her to face reality.