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His first year in middle school
They say "it all gets better"
But why does my heart still hurt
So bad still
So bad
He hated when his mother told him things like, “It’ll get better, I promise” because how dare she pretend to know things she had no clue about. He understood the sentiment but it was extraordinarily misplaced. If she really felt that way, why didn’t she ever actually help him? Why did she always ignore all the bruises and the burns, the tears in his uniform, the tears in his eyes. She just ignored them, ignored all the clues, all the signs. She ignored it all so that she wouldn’t have to acknowledge real life.
His second year in middle school
Let's just die together
Let's make all of our heads hurt
But we're used to the pain, oh
He had made a friend, two, three, four, his second year of middle school was going great. Until it wasn’t, it was going great, until he finally learned what ‘peer pressure’ meant. He learned a lot that year, learned what a vape was, learned how a cigarette felt. He learned how addicting life could be. He learned how few shits the world gave about him. He learned how pretty smoke looked being blown into an already smoggy sky. He learned what a ride or die was, he learned how to get used to the constant pain. The pain from beatings, the pain from his woefully and willfully ignorant mother. But it was fine, as long as he could pretend everything was fine then it was.
Smoking for the aesthetic
Pray to god I'll go to heaven
Nobody telling me to stop
He didn’t always smoke, he didn’t always need it. Sometimes even though he didn’t need it he’d burn one, it looked pretty. He liked the way cigarettes looked in between his fingers. He liked the way the vape clouds and the weed clouds made him look like an angel when they encircled his head. He loved the way that his room would look all hazy after a good sesh. He loved the way the world looked after a smoke, so colorful, so much more enjoyable, less grey. He loved the way his mother looked at him, acknowledging that she knew what he’d done all night, never verbalizing anything of course but the sheer power he felt knowing that she knew was all that he could ever long for.
His third year in middle school
Smoking just to past the time
Don't got a thing on my mind
Smoking for the aesthetic
As school went on his intake of cancerous metals increased heavily. It didn’t matter to him though, it didn’t matter that he had a constant cough and couldn’t ever seem to get enough air into his lungs. All that mattered to him was the escape and the lack of things in his mind after he smoked.
Woke up feeling woozy
Tried to numb anything
I tried, oh
The first time he tried to quit all of it, he tried cold turkey. He learned to never even try that again. He woke up feeling irritable and his throat felt like shit. He felt more than he had since he’d first started smoking and he didn’t like it. He never tried to quit again. He went back to numbing his feelings and pain just a few hours after he woke up.
Smoking for the aesthetic
Pray to god I'll go to heaven
Nobody tell me to stop
Despite the fact that he was smoking his life away, part of him still wanted to be a hero. He knew it would probably never happen but the hope still lived in the back of his mind when he could think. He could barely run without hacking up a lung, he knew that would never work.
Smoking just to past the time
Don't got a thing on my mind
Smoking for the aesthetic
For the aesthetic, oh
He’d graduated middle school, what to do now. He made it into UA’s general cours track. He could never tell how, he didn’t even know how he did it. Perhaps the chemicals hadn’t killed off all of his brain cells yet. It didn’t matter too much though, he knew he’d probably get kicked out. You can’t smoke in a prestigious school and he couldn’t go the whole day without smoking, he just couldn’t wait that long and considering who the principal of the school was he knew the stoat would know exactly what he was doing.
Smoking for the aesthetic
Pray to god I'll go to heaven
Nobody tell me to stop
His assumptions had been right, his experience at UA didn’t last long, it lasted a month and a half before he was expelled. In the principal's words “How could we have such a delinquent around our up and coming generation of heroes”. The principal hadn’t even told him to stop, sent him to the counselor, given him a warning, and while yes he knew this would happen he expected at least a warning.
Smoking just to past the time
Don't got a thing on my mind
Now that he didn’t have school, he had nothing but time. Nothing to think about and all the time in the world to think. It was boring, he wanted something new, something exciting, something stronger.
Smoking for the aesthetic
For the aesthetic
The aesthetic