My Emo Friend {1}

I'm going to give you the 411 on the characters. Thanks.

Joe:
18 yrs. of age
Emo, of course.
Virgo
Like, black, black, and more black.
Has a black hair
Favorite color is black
Favorite color razor is black, no duh
Let's just say his whole life is....BLACK! (Not trying to sound racist here, so yeah)


Bo:
17 yrs. of age
Pisces
Favorite Color is pink
Lives in an apartment with mom, dad, a little sister that is 13
Makes OK grades
Best friends are Gia, and Pam

Bo
 Today, I saw Gia and Pam. They looked pretty mad at me, so I asked what was wrong. Gia said, "You just act so... different lately." "How?" I asked. They were the ones acting different. "Well, you don't eat the same lunch as us, and that's it." said Gia. Gia was sometimes, stupid. Well not stupid, but, weird. "OK and that makes you mad?" I asked. "Well Bo, every time you get around that Joe boy, you totally change on us. Get real, he's 18." said Pam. Who the hell was Joe?

    Why were they being such jerks today. School today was so hard, all I could focus on was Gia and Pam. Well until I saw this boy. I think he's emo or Gothic. But I know the two of us met eye to eye. he saw me, I smiled at him. But that was dumb, I know he isn't going to smile back. But he caught me by surprise. He showed his teeth, and I think that counts as smiling. Hopefully, he'll choose a spot by me. I want to get to know him, he seems cool for a goth, or emo. I could just put a razor on his desk, and then I'll see. He's coming closer, he's coming and---
   Darn, he chose a seat by Joan. I folded a piece of paper so I could talk to him while the teacher was reading his book. I wrote in it and balled it up to throw it to him. He got it. The black lipstick on his lips smeared on to his chin as he read it. He wrote back:
Hi, my name is Bo, what's yours?
Joe.
Nice to meet you Joe.
Yeah.
So, how old are you?
18.
Cool, I'm 17.
And that makes you happy?
I was just telling you how old I was.
Well you know what?
What?
   He never wrote back. I wonder if he was annoyed with me or not. I wrote another note asking what was wrong. He didn't answer that one either. Then about 4 more, and 4 more weren't answered. I guess he just doesn't want to talk to me. The school bell rang and I could finally go home. When I got home, I saw my dad with a beer in his hand. His glasses were covered in sweat. "Hey, Dad." I said to him. We haven't talked for 4 weeks. After mom moved out, we haven't been getting along that well. He made a noise when he found out that a football team he liked lost a game.
    I went into my room. Laid down my book bag, and jumped on my bed. tears started to roll down my eyes, I don't know why. It just happened to me, like someone had hurt me. I remember, just a few hours earlier, I was being ignored by and emo and/or goth. I heard my dad come on my room, his footsteps alerted me he was coming. "You know Bo, when your Mom moved out I was sad. But you know what, you've got to act old enough, or I'm going to have to put you out." What was he saying. I was fed up with him. I could take it anymore.
    "Damn it Dad! You're just a drunk, who never cared for his family. That's why we live in this dump now." Did I say that? I didn't mean to. He was drunk, I knew he was. He held out his arms. And I could see tears in his eyes. I ran into them. His embrace comforted me for a while, "Dad, why are we here now? Can't we just live a life a little better?" I asked. Why? Why couldn't we. That's all I asked.

Joe
   Today in class, this girl named Bo was sending me notes. She sent me at least 5. I responded to one of them, but then she started sending me even more. I think she likes me or something. Whatever it is, I know she is annoying. I'm walking home right now thinking about her. I don't think I'll see her again. Even though she was annoying, I kind of liked her. She seems fun to pal around with. But I don't have time for this sort of stuff. I've got better things to do. Like... I don't know. But I've got better things to do. I'm finally home. Mom or dad isn't here. Their so ashamed of me. They don't like my black clothes, my black lipstick, my whole life. They don't like me.
    My computer is right in front of me. And there is a razor. Which one am I going to choose. Razor. Computer. Razor. Computer. Which one. I reached my hand for the razor. It took all the stress out of my life, I don't know why it does, but some how it does. I placed it firmly on my arm, I didn't realize it was there. Straight across, then red covered my arm. I didn't realize the pain until now. It hurts. It hurts me. I want to stop doing it, but I can't. I clinched my teeth, my veins started to pop out in my head. I covered the wound, one of hundreds. My eyes rolled back in my head. After about a few hours it stopped bleeding. I'm surprised I didn't die. After I lost about a pint of my blood, I went in the kitchen to get some food. I opened the refridgerator door, nothing. But some milk, I dyed black a couple of weeks ago. And som 2 month old pizza.
   That explains why I only weigh 120lbs. in the 12th grade. My life is... bad. I should have let that Bo girl talk to me. She's probably the only person that will. I just don't know if we could be good friends. I just don't know....