FicWad

Hey guyss, guess who's back with her second fanfic? OHYESH, it's Tiggie, rawrr~and, um, Charzii, of course.
BUT TIGGIE PWNS YOU, YEAAAH!
Nah, kidding. Kay guys, we don't own these sexy little dudes!
Right. I should start now.
On it!
By the way, Ryan's history isn't exact. Because this is a fanfic, I'm making it up. So. Woot. Bite me.

--

I don't know why I write in a note-book. I guess it helps sometimes, to get my feelings down. Sometimes I hope people could find this book and go 'hey, you know that Ryan kid? He's amazing, man!'
But even if they did read this, they wouldn't say that. Nobody's ever been so kind as to call me amazing.. and they don't usually call me Ryan, either. Maybe it's a bad life, I don't know-but I have good grades and a.. er, loving?-family, so I'm happy. Right?
I mean, I can say that. I can say that and honestly believe that I could have that. But it's not true. I mean, my Dad. He hates every single decision I make. It's like-'hey, Dad? I should be a lawyer' and he'll go all red and yell 'NO FUCKING WAY, GEORGE RYAN ROSS! YOU ARE NOT BEING A LAWYER!' and you know what? He suggested it in the first place. I mean, what the hell?

Mum could love me, if she was here. Maybe she got tired of me? I mean, am I honestly so bad to hang around with that my own Mum hates my guts? It feels like that.
Maybe she left because of Dad. If I could leave, I swear I would. But I can't-I have school to finish, and besides, my Dad couldn't survive without me. Not because he loves me-ha, I'd bet all my grades that he -hates- me-but because he hates me, yeah. Because I do all the chores and the dirty work around the house.
Lucky me, huh?

I have more to me than my home, obviously. School life... I don't do that much, I guess. Breeze through tests, tutor some people. Nothing much, I guess... I mean, there's this guy. Pete Wentz... he's this popular kid, and he's -so cute-. My Dad would kill me if he read this, now-I'd rub it out, except I need to -get it out- yanno? So, anyway. I'm bisexual, yeah. So sue me. My Dad's a right homophobe, so I guess I -really- shouldn't get it out.
But you know? I don't care. He'll never find this notebook.

I wish I could tutor Pete. He'd be my happy ending, my... well, you get it -without- me reciting the poem I did for English, right? He'd just be amazing for me. I mean, I know I'm not loveable. I've noticed some people calling me cute, but I don't know. I don't feel cute, ever. Seriously. I'm this tall, skinny geek that wears eyeliner. Woot? Yeah, right. That's totally something to party about.

Pete's really cute. Like, when I say really cute, I mean breathtaking. I mean totally, utterly, devastatingly perfect. I mean just -out of this world-, to put it in a way that I wouldn't be caught dead putting it. He's small, he has this sexy hairstyle and, yeah, he does wear eyeliner, but... better than me, sheesh!

If I could have anything, I'd ask for Pete. I put him on my Christmas list once-Dad was like: 'um, Ryan? Who the -hell- is Pete?'
I was like-'um, new robot. Don't worry, Dad...'
I don't like lying. I -suck- at lying. But I don't think Dad really wanted an explanation, because he didn't push it. Probably likes pretending I'm straight.
Yeah, Dad. I'm normal.
Not.

School doesn't go well for me, anyway. People always trip me up-laugh at the little Ross kid, yay. They use worse words, but I'm not really allowed to say them. I do, obviously-since when has my Dad stopped me saying anything?-but, yanno, they are pretty vulgar. So I don't need to go 'oh fuck this shit, I'm fucking killing that motherfucking bitch' which would sound pretty lame.

I'm not your average geek. I don't go 'ah, the formula of a and be together would be equalised to eight and a half x, which would clear y from the formula resulting in a technical difficulty' or anything. I use words like 'awesome', 'lame' and 'dude' as much as the average jock, actually. I'm just smart, and I-don't do well with people. I'm shy, I guess... talking over the phone is scary, seriously!- talking face to face isn't so bad, but it still scares me, yannoo?

It's just the fear of rejection, I guess. Practically everyone I know has rejected me at one point, and it hurts. It hurts over and over again, like I'm being stabbed repeatedly. So now I give up. I fucking give up now, so are people happy? No. It's like-'ooh, Ryan's sooooo unsociable!' or 'hey, Ross, who's your imaginary friend to sit with today?'
I like sitting alone. I can think. People don't nick my lunch-not that much, anyway.
What could go wrong with being alone?