Submitted by Ok-Part-2000 t3_z7xs20 in WritingPrompts
Comments
Ok-Part-2000 OP t1_iyah9rz wrote
damn that goes hard I love it
Stonewaffle501 t1_iyb0v6c wrote
It was an emotional write but damn it felt good to do, thanks for the prompt.
Ok-Part-2000 OP t1_iyb6ava wrote
you mind If I make this into a TikTok with subway surfers in the background? (I'll take ur name out if u want)
Stonewaffle501 t1_iyb9qdc wrote
Sure thing, leave my name out of it tho.
AutoModerator t1_iy8m1iv wrote
Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
Reminders:
>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules
🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.
Stonewaffle501 t1_iy9nvv1 wrote
(As a twenty-year-old college student planning on doing what I'm going to do in this story, this is about to get a little personal. Just a heads up.)
I don't really understand how I knew that I wasn't in reality anymore, but when the power went out and a very locked door creaked open, I just knew I wasn't where I was before. That got confirmed for me very quickly. I was looking at myself, a perfect copy of a very imperfect human being. I, the me that was still sitting in my chair, was spooked because, well, I was looking at me walking into my room and closing the door behind me. His grey eyes met mine, and I knew immediately what he was here for and why. You can't lie to yourself. You can lie to everybody else for a little bit, but not yourself, not forever. Since he was me, he knew. He knew damn well.
"So," he started, "you really wanna do this?" I shrugged laconically. I'd dug this grave deep, 'bout damn time I set the shovel down and just lay in it. "Yeah, I've gotta, sooner or later." He walked forward and sat on the bed behind me as I wheeled my chair around to face him. I could tell he was as scared as I was. He sighed before stating the obvious.
"Y'know, they've paid a lot for you to go to college. They paid even more for that preparatory high school education. They've given so much for you." They had, no doubt about it. Somewhere upwards of $50,000, I'd guess, and that's just for the education. Then the car, my ADHD medication, and God knows what else. I'd wasted all of it. Never gave a shit in school. I was a habitual liar who was too afraid to admit my issues. I lied about how I was doing so that they wouldn't get mad at me. Of course, they always ended up knowing. I just bought myself time for my house of cards.
"I can't keep doing this. We both know this isn't what I want to do. I won't make it in school." I was failing all my classes. I was smart enough, I just had no motivation to do any schoolwork because, well, I just didn't want to. No amount of fear or responsibility ever made me feel encouraged enough to do the bare minimum of something I didn't want to. That's fucking miserable, I know.
But I didn't want to tell my parents, "hey, I know I'm living under your roof and spending thousands of dollars of your money (and have been my entire life), but I actually want to drop out of college (the one thing they ask of me) and go try my luck at being an entertainer on the internet." So, what did I do? What I always did, I lied. I told em that school was "going great" and "I'm studying hard for finals."
I know it's wrong. It's fucking awful. I've done it for years and years, and I know I'm going to get caught every time I do it. It doesn't make me happy to betray the trust of people I love, so that's why I was going to tell them the truth. I was going to tell them what I'd done again and what I wanted to do.
The me on the bed stood up and paced around aimlessly for a few seconds before admitting our worst fears. "This might actually get you disowned. You've been lying in school for seven years. You've wasted so much time, money, and sanity of these people. They can only take so much before they finally just give up on you."
"I can't stay in school. I can't do something I have no interest in just because it makes money. I'd rather die poor and say 'I tried' than live rich having given up on those dreams."
"Would you really? You have no idea how hard things are going to be for you. They're not going to let you stay in the house if you're not going to college. You're going to be on your own completely-"
"Like a normal kid? Like everyone else around us is doing?"
"You aren't ready for 'normal.' You rely on them for everything. You're not an adult, not even close. Your medicine, your car, your food, your house, everything belongs to them. You've done nothing to pay a single cent of it back."
"I know, but I'm not going to get any better by just doing what I've always done. I can't go back to school. I know how it ends. It's not where I want to be, and no amount of guilt or necessity is going to make me successful there. I'd just be wasting more of their money."
"So what? You think that, just because it's what you want to do, you'll make it? Christ alive, look at you. You're a mess, your room is a mess, you lie to everyone. What the fuck makes you think that you'll somehow pull through this and still have enough to survive?"
"I don't know, but it's better than lying again. It's better than trying school again. We won't ever be scholars. We won't ever be a psychologist. Being funny and creative for the entertainment of others is the only thing that we like to do. At this point, I don't care if I amount to nothing in the end. I would much rather die starving on the street, having tried to make my name doing something that makes me happy, than go another second pretending that I'll make it through college. I've lied to everyone, and, as of now, I still am. If we ever want to stop being a liar, we have to start by killing the lie we're telling ourselves every day we drive to campus."
We were both too terrified to talk. This was a bad situation, one that was entirely our own fault. We were about to quit school and attempt to make it in one of the most competitive careers where failure was almost guaranteed. We had no idea what the fuck we were doing or how the fuck to do it. All we had was a pipe dream, imagination, and ignorant youthful hope. It was, almost certainly, going to fucking kill us.
Having nothing left to say, he left. I think most of me went with him. I'd never felt so scared and hopeful at the same time. I know they would always love me and care about me, but they weren't going to let this just go without expecting something given back. I was just going to have to pay it, whatever it was.
That's the price of lies, I reckon.