His Lips

I am not a quaintrelle, that’s for damn sure. I do not have much passion for life, nor do I express any. I know that change doesn’t happen overnight, but I wish it did. I am so sick and tired of being monachopsis, I want to fit in with this stupid society that we have built but hate. Really, it’s like when someone has a kid but pays no attention to it. Society is the kid and humanity is the parent. I don’t know nor care if that made sense, this is my thought process and you’re just here for a small part of the ride. It has been sixteen and a half long years since this logophile named Oliver was born, and yes, I’m talking about myself.

I am not a tumblrina like most believe, I don’t even care for that website, it just creates more drama and you can’t tell me I’m wrong. Sure, I have lost all amal for this world and I bitch about it often, but I don’t go and cause more stress for others. We all struggle, it’s real.

Oliver snickered as he wrote out that last sentence, god, he hated himself for that small teenage girl moment. This journal entry wasn’t as long as he hoped it would be, but it would do. He had no more will to write anything, his hand hurt and his favorite pen started acting up so there were small ink blotches left on the paper.

“Oli, honey, dinner is ready!” Carrie, his mother yelled from up the stairs. A sigh passed his lips at the thought of getting up, but eventually, he did. Before slipping out the door, he pulled a sweatshirt over his head, also allowing some of his dark green hair to fall into his face. He expected to see my picture perfect family sat at the dark wood table but was met with worried faces and his father’s harsh expression. He made a mental note to add something about this weird aura later into his journal, but it wouldn’t make any impact on how it felt.

Dinner passed quickly with the light small talk about their days and the giggles from the new baby, he was just glad that she didn’t cry this time but more so slobbered all over herself. Needless to say, Oli hated children. Always have and always will. Kids just weren’t his cup of tea and the only thing they caused was messes.

Oli helped clean up dinner, with a fake smile plastered onto his plump, pink lips. Although he had been trying to break the habit, you could see where he bit his lips the most. His habit wasn’t healthy, his lip would often bleed because of how much he would gnaw down on it. Oliver’s whole bottom lip often had a purple tint to it from the light bruising, but it was nothing compared to the left corner of it. That part of his lip was more, often than not, bleeding or scabbing over if he wasn’t biting at it.

Just before he was about to give into this habit again, his father snapped at him. “Oliver Daniel, don’t you dare start biting your lip again. No girl will ever kiss you if it is always scabbed.” His voice was harsh, his words biting at Oliver’s heart.

You wish it was a girl I was kissing.

It was the next day, far earlier than Oliver normally woke, when a groan and a soft moan came over from the bed. A hand hit the headboard and made its way to the wall, quickly finding the power outlet, then yanked the clocks cord out of the wall. Another groan escaped Oliver’s lips as he sat up and stretched his arms above his head. It was six-thirty in the morning and the sun was just barely reaching over the horizon. Oliver always thought that the sun was supposed to be up before you, but in his years of school, he learned that he was wrong.

Even though ten minutes had passed, Oliver was still contemplating on getting out of the warm blankets that piled over his legs. His eyes glanced over to the open window that let in a soft breeze and exhaled deeply, finally deciding to get up. As soon as his feet hit the floor, the dizziness hit him and the static feeling in his legs started. Since this happened every time he got out of bed, he simply brushed it off and continued to his dresser.

After dressing into a plain white T-shirt and a pair of ripped, black skinny jeans, Oliver ran his hand through his hair as a failed attempt at taming his wild bed head. He glanced over at the clock, to realize that he hadn’t plugged it back in after unplugging it to stop the beeping. A sigh passed his lips when he plugged it back in and saw that he needed to hurry up or he would be late on the first day. It wasn’t his first day at a new school or anything, just the first day of junior year at the same boring school district he had gone to since the second grade.

“Oliver, réveillez-vous !” Oliver’s mother yelled down the stairs, only to hear Oli yell back to her that he was up. He rushed to the bathroom, quickly shoving his toothbrush into his mouth and running back to his room to pack up his supplies into his slightly worn down bag. He finished up, brushing his teeth, grabbing his bag, then rushing up the stairs to see his mother holding a warmed bagel and his keys to him.

“Thanks, mom,” he smiled at her as he took the items, then rushed out the door into the crisp air that bit at his exposed arms. The car was already stopped at a light when he realized he forgot a sweater and slightly hit his head against his the wheel. Soon enough, he was outside of the school with his bag slung over his shoulder and one of his shoelaces almost undone already.

“Oli! Oh my god, you survived the summer!” A girl with piercing blue hair yelled as she ran over and wrapped her arms around the poor boy.

“Why hello to you too, Karrie,” Oli wrapped his arms around her and matched her smile with his own. She quickly moved out of his arms and held him by his shoulders an arm’s length away.

“Your hair..” She whispered quietly as her hand moved to his hair. That wild mess could only be described as a cloud of deep hunter green, curly wisps. One of his tamed brows crooked as she ran her hair through the soft curls.

“Yeah, what about it?” The boy asked her, pulling her hand away from his head and entangled their fingers.

“The blond was the only thing I loved about you, I guess I don’t love you anymore.” She pouted playfully, not being able to hold the smile down for long as the boy chuckled and started walking into the school, pulling her along.

“You sit on a throne of lies,” he turned to her and stuck his tongue out before walking away to his own class, leaving the girl flipping him off behind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Oliver’s first class went by in a flash since he was asleep for most of it, but his next class was a nightmare. The whole time, he felt as there were eyes, trying to slice their way into the back or side of his head. The feeling made him wiggle in his seat and fidget with his hair a ton. He tried everything to keep his lip out of his teeth, unfortunately, halfway into the class he failed.

Oli’s teeth started biting at the almost healed wound on his bottom lip, it soon rips open and exposing the raw skin underneath. By the end of the period, his lip was bleeding again, putting him back at square one and five days back. He hated the person who was staring at him before he even knew the guy - or girl. Oliver had been trying so hard to stop the biting, but someone staring him down didn’t help much.

His next class wasn’t any better, the feeling of being watched was still very prominent to him. Oliver completely gave up on not biting at his lip, it was the only thing keeping him away from freaking out. Maybe he was just being paranoid, that thought crossed his mind many times as he tried to continue on with his class, but the feeling didn’t stop until lunch.

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Oliver, réveillez-vous ! - Oliver, wake up!

Quaintrelle - a woman who emphasizes a life of passion, expressed through personal style, charm, leisurely pastimes, and cultivation of life’s pleasures.

Monachopsis - the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

Logophile - a lover of words.

Amal - hope.