Friday, 12 July 2013
Oh my freaking God, it moved!
I am sure it did!
Or did it?
He blinked a few times. Closed his eyes. No. Surely not. Impossible.
He opened his eyes and looked over at the bookcase. His favourite green mug, the one with the ridiculous pattern of gnomes on it, stood on the top shelf. Vapour ringlets rising from the still hot coffee. He was sitting in the sofa, propped up on all the pillows he owned. In accordance with the Law of Sod he had just found the perfect position in amongst the pillows, put his headphones on and had just started the movie before realising his brew was left on the shelf on the other side of the room. So close, and yet so far.
In frustration he had instantly stared angrily at the mug and willed it to move, like some badass jedi. Ridiculous. But it had moved! Hadn't it?..
For a moment he thought that he might be going crazy. He was sure he remembered reading about some weird branch of schizophrenia where your mind is convinced it had super powers or something like that.. But no. It was a hell of a lot more likely that yesterdays monster session of Skyrim had something to do with it. Messing up his mind.
He sighed and smiled to himself at his ridiculous ideas. Perhaps he should lay off the energy drinks next time he had a longer gaming session? Or perhaps he should lay off the gaming completely...
He laid his he'd back and closed his eyes. Maybe the feeling of dread would go away quickly this time?
It was only 6 months since the end of high school. He had hated every minute of every year he had been forced to go to school. But now the fog created by happiness and beer from all graduation parties, the joy of final freedom after a lifetime of studies, was lifting and left behind was a harsh reality of unemployment. The finality of it all left him with feelings of panic - a slowly growing tumour, sprouting from somewhere behind his belly button, sending out slimy cold arms of anxiety, blocking his throat. He closed his eyes when they started to burn. People around him kept giving him advice. Everywhere he went, everyone he met and every website he visited seamed to scream out to him that he should DO something with his life. NOW!! Get a job! Live your dream! You can do it! Come on! Get a grip!
At the start it had been so easy to justify. Of course he should find out what he REALLY wanted to do with his life, but not yet! Surely he deserved a month or two of complete freedom after all these years of school? Wasn't he an adult after all? Could he not do what he wanted?
He was incredibly grateful to his parents. To let him stay in the flat rent free, in exchange for some menial duties. Mowing the lawn. Washing the car. He knew they would let him stay for as long as he wanted. The chores were only given to him to make him feel like he did something to deserve it. He knew he didn't. Knew he should get a job, any job. The tumour sent out a slimy hand, grabbing his lungs. He couldn't breathe. Recognising the start of a panic attack, he tried to think of something else - anything but the blackness of the future - and breathe slowly. It worked.
He took a deep breath. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would sit down and write a proper CV. Yes. That was it. He would sort himself out. Tomorrow.
He got up off the sofa and went over to the book case. When he was about a meter from the shelf, with his arm stretched out in front of him, the coffee cup shot off the shelf and into his hand. The force of it splashed the hot coffee all over his wrist and lower arm and the reflex made him drop the mug instantly. He looked down on the floor. Onto the broken bits of his favourite green mug in a pool of coffee. No. Freaking. Way.
He stretched out his arm and faced the desk by the opposite wall. When his mobile phone hit his palm after zooming through the air, he smiled. Oh yeah.
Two hours later he was sitting by the desk, feverishly writing a list. A long list of all the jobs he had ever wanted. All the places he had ever wanted to see. All the things he had ever wanted to do. Nothing can stop a man with superpowers!