Do you ever feel like a child, sometimes?
With no concept of how the world works, with how you can be used.
Where you are told to follow the rules and you’re not yet old enough to ask why.
When you look up to the people who care for you with endearment and wonder.
No, I doubt you do.
Because you’re not a child.
You understand that the world is cruel, and yet glorious.
It’s known that the rules are rarely meant to be followed, and when they are you question until your last breath.
And the people you looked up to as children are so rarely held as high as they once were.
Now imagine, having both of those worlds crammed together inside your head.
Seems chaotic, doesn’t it?
I would give anything to go back to a time when things were normal again.
Where aliens weren’t tearing apart New York.
Where there weren’t risks of accidentally creating a robot that wanted to destroy humanity.
I want to ride the Cyclone with Steve again.
But then again, when has what I wanted ever been taken into account before?
Glancing up at the sound of Steve’s voice, I raise my brows in question.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“Looks like you’re just.. sitting in a cardboard box. What are all these scribbles?”
“Dunno. Wade came in at one point. Came back a while later with a sharpie. I’ve stopped questioning him.”
I shrug lightly, my friends face turning into one of concern.
“You haven’t left the house in days. C’mon, we’re going out.”
“I want to be a hermit, Steve. Let me.”
“Nope. Tell you what though, we’ll buy you a bigger box.”
Sometimes you get the short stick when it comes to life.
But what exactly can you do about it?
Mope, I suppose.
Or you can make the most of it.
Yeah, stupid advice.
But having the short stick doesn’t mean you have to miss out on life.
All it really means is you have to fight just a little harder than others to get to the finish line.
But when you’ve got friends like Steve?
It’s worth it, even with all the shit.