I don't know the title yet, but a story I'm writing...

So this journey called life-simple right? I’m sure you’ve got everything and anything all figured out? Wrong: as wrong as something could possibly be. In fact, it’s proven more difficult in the past four days than anything I could imagine….

Day 1

Day broke-- like I broke open an eye and stroked my face and I, unfortunately awoke. Damn. Try as I might, this just wasn't my time to die. Not yet. Still trials to be suffered, goals to be met and I bet my last smoke this should prove another day worth dying after. Damn. Day broke, and I lay drifting into some world I wished was there. Where I wasn't boxed in this white room with its white walls and doors, all the more to drive me mad and the sun was white hot against my black ass face. Damn. I hated it.

"Wake up bitch! It’s Monday. Time to receive some of that million dollar education.” It was Kyle. He was always moving, always doing something …if even not for his best interest.

"It’s school…it’s not going anywhere. It will be there tomorrow…and the next day and the next one. It’s actually quite annoying.” I said.

I Moved about my bed and the pillow didn't feel right anymore. Turned it. Cold, better and comfortable. Some hope maybe? But five minutes into time saw me hating it all the more.

“Dude you still haven’t done anything with this room. It’s so bland.” said Kyle.

“I have no money to do anything, including unnecessary acts like decorating this prison you call a dorm.” I said.

"Well guess what Mr. Pessimist. Life is a very real thing. And right now the most important thing in your life is getting up and going to class. Wake up fool!”

Kyle kicked the bed, but I pretended not to notice. I wanted to go back into my dreams, to my world of paradise and trees, woods never ending and a symbolic rainfall teeming with the stimulation I craved. I hated the real world. It was a mess. Like my room. I turned over again and reached towards something better. The ritual Newport that eased my habitual thoughts of death. That box had things in it. 20 reasons to live a "class A" life. Empty. Shit, that's the story of my existence.

“It’s a bright day man!” Kyle said, ripping open the curtains. The blinding light of the sun in the morning. Ugh.

Kyle was what you might like to call my best friend. Well in reality, he was my only friend, but I made it count. I met him back in high school, a glutton for trouble but a boy wise beyond his 16 years at the time. He’s 18 now and loving it. We decided to stick together and left the hood for higher ground. Emory University, a top twenty school teeming with all the middle class we could get our hands on. Oh, how we strove for the middle class.

“Fine, I’m up you stupid idiot.” I said.

I stood up, glaring at the source of my misfortune. He dared speak another word or I’d kill him.

“Plus you know that crazy ass bitch, Tammy gon’ be lookin’ for yooooou oooh! Leaving her on the street last night?! She’s most definitely going to have a thing or two to say to um, express my utter disgust with your behavior. Who the fuck talks like that? A crazy bitch, that’s who.”

“I hate you so much. Tammy deserved that shit. She was acting up all night. Flirting with anything on two legs, pretending she was single? She practically begged me to slap her behind in the mouth. I swear I don’t know what keeps me with her.” I said.

“I don’t know either. Well…oh would you look at that. Guess who’s outside waiting? Tammy. That’s yo ass Mr. Postman.” I’ll see you in class. If you make it.”

“Thanks for the moral support.” I said. Kyle left and I inched toward the window. I made eye contact with her. Damn! She was still there when I looked. I sighed and went to brush my teeth.

A natural disaster was about to occur and there was nothing I could do to stop it.