Kio.exe
Road work ahead? Uh, I sure hope it does...
Matthew Foster
@laundroMatt has set their status to:
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
@laundroMatt has set their outfit to:
Baby blue, but I just feel blue? (link)
@laundroMatt has set their location to:
School. I don’t want to be here.
@laundroMatt has mentioned:
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@laundroMatt has interacted with:
Open!
@laundroMatt has tagged:
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@laundroMatt has written a tl;dr:
Mental breakdown time? I think so.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
@laundroMatt has set their outfit to:
Baby blue, but I just feel blue? (link)
@laundroMatt has set their location to:
School. I don’t want to be here.
@laundroMatt has mentioned:
N/A
@laundroMatt has interacted with:
Open!
@laundroMatt has tagged:
N/A
@laundroMatt has written a tl;dr:
Mental breakdown time? I think so.
(The music buttons work in these posts btw : 0)
The first day of school. The first day of Junior year. It was something Matt had been looking forward to since his first day as a freshman, but now? He dreaded it. He’d spent the night glaring at the clock as the numbers ever so slowly made their way towards dawn, unable to sleep. Unable to do anything but stare towards the photo wall he hadn’t been able to take down these last few months. Photos of him and Stella, ranging from when they were toddlers, barely able to walk, to a few days before she...before she disappeared. Photos of the happiest years of his life.
Now, the photos were all he had left. He’d folded the hoodies that still smelled like her perfume and shoved them in the back of his closet, out of sight, and...not out of mind. He’d taken all the gifts they’d exchanged and stuffed them in the chest that sat in the corner of his room, desperate to be rid of any reminder of his girlfriend. His best friend. When he’d gotten to the photos he hadn’t been able to take them down, so now Matt spent the majority of his day staring at them, waiting for her to come home.
She couldn’t...she couldn’t be dead. Bubbly, carefree, golden Stella Denver wasn’t dead, and yet that was what the whole town seemed to believe. Even her stuck up, no good parents. Next week they were going to bury an empty casket just to prove it. It was as if the whole world had moved on, and Matt was left behind, stuck in the past. Stuck in the memories, the feelings, the smells. And he hated it. Matthew Foster, who hated nothing and no one, hated himself for still caring.
Groaning, he heaved himself off of the cold wooden floor where he’d been laying next to his bed, the world spinning around him. An empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s lay by his feet and Matt nudged it with a bare foot, watching blearily as it slid a few inches across the floor, the sound of it grating against his eardrums. His head throbbed, and his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth, like a wad of cotton. What would Stella think of him now, going to school on the first day with a hangover? Matt didn’t want to know the answer. He’d been desperate to forget, if only for the night. Instead he’d sat on the floor crying like a fucking baby. Pathetic. He was truly pathetic.
He stumbled towards his bathroom, bumping into more than a few walls on the way. Flicking on the light he swore, wincing against the abrasive brightness, rubbing at his temples with icy fingers. His house was silent; his mother was still asleep and his father at work. Good. Matt wasn’t sure he could look them in the eyes anyways.
Sighing, he studied his reflection in the mirror, frowning at what he saw. Red rimmed, swollen red eyes, deep purple bags lining them. The barest hint of golden blonde stubble gracing his jaw, his shoulders slumped and curved inwards, skin wan, mouth set in a grimace. He looked just as pathetic as he felt, and he had to leave...he looked down at the phone he hadn’t realized he had clenched in his hands. 7:11. Great. He had to leave in less than five minutes.
Snatching his toothbrush from where it lay by the sink, Matt scrubbed furiously at his mouth, hoping the smell of liquor would be gone by the time he got to school. After he was done, he splashed at his face with cold water, not bothering to dry himself off before striding back into his room and digging through his closet haphazardly, looking for an acceptable outfit. Not that he cared, it was just that...he had a show to put on. Bubbly, happy, innocent Matt had to make an appearance or else nothing would be right in the world. He settled on a baby blue crew neck sweater and khaki pants, before shoving his (now socked) feet into a pair of white sneakers, not bothering to tie the laces before grabbing his keys from where they were thrown on his dresser, creeping down the stairs as quietly as possible and out the door, backpack slung over his shoulder.
The drive to the school wasn’t long by any means, but it certainly stirred up memories. Matt looked to the empty passenger seat, tears welling in his eyes for the umpteenth time that morning as a bombardment of memories flashed before his eyes. Memories of Stella in the seat besides him, feet propped up on the dashboard no matter how many times he’d jokingly scolded her for leaving smudge marks on it. Memories of them driving through town with the windows down in the summer, hand in hand with music blasting through the speakers. She’d stick her head out the window like she hadn’t a care in the world, her blonde hair whipping around like a tumbleweed. Memories of their first kiss in the backseat at a drive-in movie and eventually their first time…
Matt pushed the thoughts from his mind as he came to a stop sign, realizing he’d drifted into the middle of the road. He needed to stop thinking, stop feeling, stop caring, or he was going to wind up hurt. Or, worse, someone else was going to get hurt, and Matt didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if that happened. He pulled into the parking lot of Benton Grove High School, the place that had been both his home and his prison for the past three years. Now it looked like a boneyard, bleak and grey in the dim morning light.
There weren’t many people there, and he was able to park close to the entrance. He turned the engine off and sat for a minute, staring at his driving wheel blankly. That god damn headache was still pressing at his temples, and his stomach rumbled uncomfortably, to the point where Matt wasn’t sure if he was hungry, or nauseas, or both. Letting out a weary sigh, he finally stepped out of the car, banging his head on the top of the door on his way. He swore sharply, snatching his bag from the back seat before walking towards the school building, scowl set on his face.
Matt stopped just before the doors, hand hovering over the handle. Why was he hesitating? It was just school. School without Stella. School without...he clenched his brown eyes shut for a second, heartbeat thundering in his chest as his breath began coming out in uneven pants. He was going to have a panic attack, like he’d been having almost everyday since she disappeared, wasn’t he? God had a funny way of doing things, didn’t he. He really enjoyed fucking up Matt’s life when he expected it the least.
The first day of school. The first day of Junior year. It was something Matt had been looking forward to since his first day as a freshman, but now? He dreaded it. He’d spent the night glaring at the clock as the numbers ever so slowly made their way towards dawn, unable to sleep. Unable to do anything but stare towards the photo wall he hadn’t been able to take down these last few months. Photos of him and Stella, ranging from when they were toddlers, barely able to walk, to a few days before she...before she disappeared. Photos of the happiest years of his life.
Now, the photos were all he had left. He’d folded the hoodies that still smelled like her perfume and shoved them in the back of his closet, out of sight, and...not out of mind. He’d taken all the gifts they’d exchanged and stuffed them in the chest that sat in the corner of his room, desperate to be rid of any reminder of his girlfriend. His best friend. When he’d gotten to the photos he hadn’t been able to take them down, so now Matt spent the majority of his day staring at them, waiting for her to come home.
She couldn’t...she couldn’t be dead. Bubbly, carefree, golden Stella Denver wasn’t dead, and yet that was what the whole town seemed to believe. Even her stuck up, no good parents. Next week they were going to bury an empty casket just to prove it. It was as if the whole world had moved on, and Matt was left behind, stuck in the past. Stuck in the memories, the feelings, the smells. And he hated it. Matthew Foster, who hated nothing and no one, hated himself for still caring.
Groaning, he heaved himself off of the cold wooden floor where he’d been laying next to his bed, the world spinning around him. An empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s lay by his feet and Matt nudged it with a bare foot, watching blearily as it slid a few inches across the floor, the sound of it grating against his eardrums. His head throbbed, and his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth, like a wad of cotton. What would Stella think of him now, going to school on the first day with a hangover? Matt didn’t want to know the answer. He’d been desperate to forget, if only for the night. Instead he’d sat on the floor crying like a fucking baby. Pathetic. He was truly pathetic.
He stumbled towards his bathroom, bumping into more than a few walls on the way. Flicking on the light he swore, wincing against the abrasive brightness, rubbing at his temples with icy fingers. His house was silent; his mother was still asleep and his father at work. Good. Matt wasn’t sure he could look them in the eyes anyways.
Sighing, he studied his reflection in the mirror, frowning at what he saw. Red rimmed, swollen red eyes, deep purple bags lining them. The barest hint of golden blonde stubble gracing his jaw, his shoulders slumped and curved inwards, skin wan, mouth set in a grimace. He looked just as pathetic as he felt, and he had to leave...he looked down at the phone he hadn’t realized he had clenched in his hands. 7:11. Great. He had to leave in less than five minutes.
Snatching his toothbrush from where it lay by the sink, Matt scrubbed furiously at his mouth, hoping the smell of liquor would be gone by the time he got to school. After he was done, he splashed at his face with cold water, not bothering to dry himself off before striding back into his room and digging through his closet haphazardly, looking for an acceptable outfit. Not that he cared, it was just that...he had a show to put on. Bubbly, happy, innocent Matt had to make an appearance or else nothing would be right in the world. He settled on a baby blue crew neck sweater and khaki pants, before shoving his (now socked) feet into a pair of white sneakers, not bothering to tie the laces before grabbing his keys from where they were thrown on his dresser, creeping down the stairs as quietly as possible and out the door, backpack slung over his shoulder.
The drive to the school wasn’t long by any means, but it certainly stirred up memories. Matt looked to the empty passenger seat, tears welling in his eyes for the umpteenth time that morning as a bombardment of memories flashed before his eyes. Memories of Stella in the seat besides him, feet propped up on the dashboard no matter how many times he’d jokingly scolded her for leaving smudge marks on it. Memories of them driving through town with the windows down in the summer, hand in hand with music blasting through the speakers. She’d stick her head out the window like she hadn’t a care in the world, her blonde hair whipping around like a tumbleweed. Memories of their first kiss in the backseat at a drive-in movie and eventually their first time…
Matt pushed the thoughts from his mind as he came to a stop sign, realizing he’d drifted into the middle of the road. He needed to stop thinking, stop feeling, stop caring, or he was going to wind up hurt. Or, worse, someone else was going to get hurt, and Matt didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if that happened. He pulled into the parking lot of Benton Grove High School, the place that had been both his home and his prison for the past three years. Now it looked like a boneyard, bleak and grey in the dim morning light.
There weren’t many people there, and he was able to park close to the entrance. He turned the engine off and sat for a minute, staring at his driving wheel blankly. That god damn headache was still pressing at his temples, and his stomach rumbled uncomfortably, to the point where Matt wasn’t sure if he was hungry, or nauseas, or both. Letting out a weary sigh, he finally stepped out of the car, banging his head on the top of the door on his way. He swore sharply, snatching his bag from the back seat before walking towards the school building, scowl set on his face.
Matt stopped just before the doors, hand hovering over the handle. Why was he hesitating? It was just school. School without Stella. School without...he clenched his brown eyes shut for a second, heartbeat thundering in his chest as his breath began coming out in uneven pants. He was going to have a panic attack, like he’d been having almost everyday since she disappeared, wasn’t he? God had a funny way of doing things, didn’t he. He really enjoyed fucking up Matt’s life when he expected it the least.