How weird am I?

*ring*

 
The girl wakes up and answers her phone.

 
“…hello?”

 
“Hi it’s me.”

 
She looked at the time.

 
“6am?
Yo you know it’s 6 in the morning right?”

 

 

“Yeah, Is this weird? Because there are some things I wanna say to you.”

 

 

“…you’ve crossed the weird line. Let’s see the degree of your weirdness.”

 
“Oh. Uh. I find you intriguing. I remember, it was the first time we talked to each other, you told me about how you were raised. You were told to do things only. And it’s always study, study, study. All through school. All through your teenage years. Ok what I mean to say is, you don’t like being told what to do…”

 
“Oh yeah I hate it.”

 
“…and YES! Yes! That’s wh…I’m like that too. And I never tell anyone about it because you know, it’s weird and I dunno…”

 
Everything came rushing back to both of them. From the moment they got home from school the very first time until the last time they ever answered an exam paper. She knew he was telling the truth. And she understands. As he was still continuing his guilt-ridden ramblings because he called a girl at 6am in the morning, she said,

 
“Hey.”

 
And he instantly went silent. As was she. After a brief moment of awkwardness, he finally said,
“So how weird am I?”

 
“Really weird.”

 
“Oh.”

 
“Yeah so I’m gonna head back to bed because it’s fuck-knows in the morning.”

 
“Yeah sure.”

 
“Buhbye.”

 
“Bye.”

 
And she hangs up. He legitimately contemplated suicide right that moment, just for a moment, as he realises the gravity of the shitstorm he might be in. Veins were popping on his temple.
 

 
*ding*

 
He looked at his phone. The message said,

 
I’ll call you tonight *winkyface*

 
After a slight shudder, he said to himself,

 
“This is weird, right?”

suffocating my demons one cigarette at a time. unhealthy obsession with fire
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