Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Everything Must Belong Somewhere
.[eleven].
3 reviewswas it straylight run who said you can't go home again? btw, thanks to everyone who reviewed. it really helped me out.
1Funny
I woke up to the sun greeting me obnoxiously through my childhood window. Living in Seattle for the past two years had almost made me forget how the sun felt on your face. Warm, bright, and comfortable. Sun may have been the thing I needed most these days, but it was the last thing I wanted. What I wanted was to hide under the covers and board up the windows. I wanted to keep every thing and everyone out and I wanted to keep myself in. Hidden. Tucked away. Like a secret. Because that's how I felt. And I was. I was Pete's secret now. A revenge fuck. A mistake. A tool used to heighten his self-esteem. Nothing more than anything.
I pulled the covers over my head and tried not to laugh out loud at the irony. Two years ago, I was in this exact same spot, doing this exact same thing, for the exact same reason. Only, at that time, the pain I felt motivated me to move 2,500 miles away and start over. It inspired me to be the best goddamn hair dresser I could be. It enabled me to be able to charge $170 dollars for a haircut. It made me better. It made me do something with myself. It helped me get over Pete. This time, it drove me back to Chicago where this all began. Like I said, the irony.
I had been sleeping since I got off the plane at eleven p.m. last night. I didn't actually know where I was going until I found myself at the airport after my meeting with Patrick. Going home seemed like the only thing I hadn't done yet. It seemed like the only thing left to do, so I caught a red eye and arrived in front of my parent's house hours later.
My parents were in Europe at the grand opening of their newest salon, so they didn't even know I was here. I preferred that. I didn't need them, just the comfort I knew this town, this house, could provide.
I decided that I couldn't hide under the covers all day. I couldn't mentally kick myself for my recently bad decision. If I chose to hide in my old bedroom all day, in my old house, in my old town, I would start to think too much. I would start to think that all the time I spent with Pete had been a total waste. I would start to think that two years of my life bumming around this town running on hopes ,and dreams, and caffeine, and love were nothing but a fucking lie. A complete and total fucking waste of time and of myself. I had to go out and do something. I committed myself to taking a shower and lacing up my old running shoes. I once heard that exercise produces endorphins that make it impossible to be in a bad mood. I'm really not sure if it works, but it sounds scientific and science might be the only thing that makes sense to me these days.
After stretching, I closed the blue door behind me and took off through the neighboorhood. I began jogging slowly at first with Park as my soundtrack. As the music intensified, so did my thoughts. With each drum beat, my feet dug deeper into the grass. The wind hit me hard in the face and with each step, I began to feel like a new person. It was as if with each step, the old me was being blown away. All of the mistakes, all the time wasted with Peter, all the time afterwards that I spent thinking about him, the recent one night stand. In this moment, it was all okay because nothing mattered. Because in this moment, I was better than all of it. In this moment, I could rise above it again and come out a better person. All the pain I've went through since I met that kid would make me a better person. It would push me. It would motivate me. In this moment, I believed in karma and that enabled me to believe that one day Pete would get his.
In this moment, I am on the fucking ground exhausted and aching. My thoughts and adrenaline had made me run so quickly and intensely that I inadvertently, yet litterally ran into someone. I spit out cuss words under my breath as I attempted to rub the pain out of my ankle.
"Damn. I am so sorry. Here let me help you up." A still anonymous boy rudely stuck his hand in my face in a gesture to make me stand on my now sprained ankle. How sweet.
"I think you've done enough." I swatted his hand away and tried to stand up on my own only to fall back down from the pain the pressure on my ankle.
"Right. No offense, but you ran into me, kid." He announced as he offered his hand yet again to help me. In my experience, any time you have to tell someone not to take offense, you know that they are going to take offense. So of course I did. I prepared myself to tell him exactly that.
"Holy fuck." I said as I realized who had been mistakenly claiming I ran into him.
"I knew it! Only you could be that rude to a complete stranger, Charley Kate Brunet." The boy laughed out loud.
"You shithead. Help me up. And don't you ever use my full name again, Joseph." He did as I told him then looked at me strangely as I winced from the pain.
"Did you hurt your ankle?" He questioned inspecting it.
"Interestingly enough, I hurt my collar bone. I'm rubbing my ankle to distract myself from the pain."
"You're still a pain in the ass." He laughed. Besides Pete, Joe had always been the only one able to take my sarcasm correctly. Everyone else got offended or their feelings hurt. However, unlike Pete, instead of giving it back to me, Joe just laughed it off.
"And you're still breaking girl's ankles."
"I prefer to break girl's hearts, but I take what I can get." He grinned. I playfully nudged him.
"It's good to see you." I said honestly. Usually that phrase is said by me sarcastically, but in Joe's case I totally meant it. Joe is the only one of Pete's friends that I could stand. Breaking ties with Joe was difficult back then, but I felt like it had to be done for me to successfully move on.
"What brings you to Chicago?" He asked offering me his shoulder to lean on.
"Things." For some reason with Joe, I tuned down my negativity and sarcasm.
"Things haven't brought you back in two years." He eyed me suspiciously. He guided me to a bench and helped me sit down.
"I felt like it was time." I tried to skim around the subject. I didn't want to let Joe know that it was Pete who drove me back here, when I'm sure he knows it was Pete who drove me away.
"Mhm. Right. We'll get to that subject later then, but right now I'm going to take you and your broken collar bone to the hospital." He said to me sternly. I suppose he knew I would try and fight him about going to the hospital, but by the look in his eyes I decided not to try and refute him about it. After all, it was he who knocked me down. He should be the one to take me to the hospital.
I've been back home for less than eight hours and have already managed to damage my ankle by running into one of my exboyfriend's best friends. I'm beginning to think that this trip home is going to be more than I bargained for.
I pulled the covers over my head and tried not to laugh out loud at the irony. Two years ago, I was in this exact same spot, doing this exact same thing, for the exact same reason. Only, at that time, the pain I felt motivated me to move 2,500 miles away and start over. It inspired me to be the best goddamn hair dresser I could be. It enabled me to be able to charge $170 dollars for a haircut. It made me better. It made me do something with myself. It helped me get over Pete. This time, it drove me back to Chicago where this all began. Like I said, the irony.
I had been sleeping since I got off the plane at eleven p.m. last night. I didn't actually know where I was going until I found myself at the airport after my meeting with Patrick. Going home seemed like the only thing I hadn't done yet. It seemed like the only thing left to do, so I caught a red eye and arrived in front of my parent's house hours later.
My parents were in Europe at the grand opening of their newest salon, so they didn't even know I was here. I preferred that. I didn't need them, just the comfort I knew this town, this house, could provide.
I decided that I couldn't hide under the covers all day. I couldn't mentally kick myself for my recently bad decision. If I chose to hide in my old bedroom all day, in my old house, in my old town, I would start to think too much. I would start to think that all the time I spent with Pete had been a total waste. I would start to think that two years of my life bumming around this town running on hopes ,and dreams, and caffeine, and love were nothing but a fucking lie. A complete and total fucking waste of time and of myself. I had to go out and do something. I committed myself to taking a shower and lacing up my old running shoes. I once heard that exercise produces endorphins that make it impossible to be in a bad mood. I'm really not sure if it works, but it sounds scientific and science might be the only thing that makes sense to me these days.
After stretching, I closed the blue door behind me and took off through the neighboorhood. I began jogging slowly at first with Park as my soundtrack. As the music intensified, so did my thoughts. With each drum beat, my feet dug deeper into the grass. The wind hit me hard in the face and with each step, I began to feel like a new person. It was as if with each step, the old me was being blown away. All of the mistakes, all the time wasted with Peter, all the time afterwards that I spent thinking about him, the recent one night stand. In this moment, it was all okay because nothing mattered. Because in this moment, I was better than all of it. In this moment, I could rise above it again and come out a better person. All the pain I've went through since I met that kid would make me a better person. It would push me. It would motivate me. In this moment, I believed in karma and that enabled me to believe that one day Pete would get his.
In this moment, I am on the fucking ground exhausted and aching. My thoughts and adrenaline had made me run so quickly and intensely that I inadvertently, yet litterally ran into someone. I spit out cuss words under my breath as I attempted to rub the pain out of my ankle.
"Damn. I am so sorry. Here let me help you up." A still anonymous boy rudely stuck his hand in my face in a gesture to make me stand on my now sprained ankle. How sweet.
"I think you've done enough." I swatted his hand away and tried to stand up on my own only to fall back down from the pain the pressure on my ankle.
"Right. No offense, but you ran into me, kid." He announced as he offered his hand yet again to help me. In my experience, any time you have to tell someone not to take offense, you know that they are going to take offense. So of course I did. I prepared myself to tell him exactly that.
"Holy fuck." I said as I realized who had been mistakenly claiming I ran into him.
"I knew it! Only you could be that rude to a complete stranger, Charley Kate Brunet." The boy laughed out loud.
"You shithead. Help me up. And don't you ever use my full name again, Joseph." He did as I told him then looked at me strangely as I winced from the pain.
"Did you hurt your ankle?" He questioned inspecting it.
"Interestingly enough, I hurt my collar bone. I'm rubbing my ankle to distract myself from the pain."
"You're still a pain in the ass." He laughed. Besides Pete, Joe had always been the only one able to take my sarcasm correctly. Everyone else got offended or their feelings hurt. However, unlike Pete, instead of giving it back to me, Joe just laughed it off.
"And you're still breaking girl's ankles."
"I prefer to break girl's hearts, but I take what I can get." He grinned. I playfully nudged him.
"It's good to see you." I said honestly. Usually that phrase is said by me sarcastically, but in Joe's case I totally meant it. Joe is the only one of Pete's friends that I could stand. Breaking ties with Joe was difficult back then, but I felt like it had to be done for me to successfully move on.
"What brings you to Chicago?" He asked offering me his shoulder to lean on.
"Things." For some reason with Joe, I tuned down my negativity and sarcasm.
"Things haven't brought you back in two years." He eyed me suspiciously. He guided me to a bench and helped me sit down.
"I felt like it was time." I tried to skim around the subject. I didn't want to let Joe know that it was Pete who drove me back here, when I'm sure he knows it was Pete who drove me away.
"Mhm. Right. We'll get to that subject later then, but right now I'm going to take you and your broken collar bone to the hospital." He said to me sternly. I suppose he knew I would try and fight him about going to the hospital, but by the look in his eyes I decided not to try and refute him about it. After all, it was he who knocked me down. He should be the one to take me to the hospital.
I've been back home for less than eight hours and have already managed to damage my ankle by running into one of my exboyfriend's best friends. I'm beginning to think that this trip home is going to be more than I bargained for.
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