Another Shitty Politican

Orgasms were quite odd. Though I'd been having sex or partaking in sexual activities, I failed to actually share an orgasm with any of my numerous clients. I had never really been a sexual person in the first place; sex never really intrigued me. The only thing I liked about sex was how you could portray your appreciation and love through physical acts, but that had been stripped away when someone paid me to make them feel utter ecstasy while I watched. I didn't mind the whole 'not-enjoying-all-the-sex' sort of deal. But I figured that there had to be someone who felt that perhaps you have to give what you take. Just like donations or charities. If no one ever replenishes the pile, then the pile will wither away and become a faded memory. Slightly burned Polaroid pictures were scanned and printed into the book I'd been flipping through. It didn't seem to hold any real context or story, though the photos themselves expressed moments of other peoples' lives that had been enjoyable. No one ever takes photos of the bad times, because we only want to feel like our life has meaning and isn't all shit. Each photo was taken with flash, that much was obvious. There were photos of these young adults doing stupid shit throughout town at nighttime. Standing too close to the edge on bridges, spray-painting park benches and the sides of convenience stores. They had no fear, they didn't care that they were staring death in the face. They mocked death. "Whatcha got there?" Oli asked over my shoulder, making me flinch. "Sorry." "No, it's okay. Have you seen this before?" I asked him, showing him the photo-book I'd held in my hands. He shook his head, a puzzled expression upon his face. "Where'd you find this?" He asked me, flipping through the plastic pages that protected each photo-scanned pictures. I pointed to the very back corner. HIs eyes widened. "Put this back. Now. Make it look like you never touched this. We won't speak of this book ever again, do you understand me? This is a dangerous book." "Oli, what're you talking about? It's just a book of some college kids." "No, no it's not. This is photographic evidence that Madame had been the govner's mistress. It also shows every city council man being here. These pictures of 'college kids' are of people who'd used to be here and have made something of themselves." "Why would Madame keep them though?" "As evidence. If this place goes down, she's taking everyone down with her." Oli explained. "If anyone rats her out, then she can prove that they're nothing but a shitty politician, spending tax payers' money on whores." "So she's vengeful? Okay then." I went and slid the book back, tilting it back to how I'd found it. Oli sighed. "We're all vengeful, don't even lie and say you're not." He muttered. "Successful people wanted to prove that they weren't worthless. Worthless people wanted to prove that they weren't going to be successful. Rich didn't want to be poor, etcetera, et-fucking-cetera." "What'd you want to prove then?" "That there is lower than rock bottom. There's a hell on earth, and it's love." He replied, going and reorganizing some shelves that were already organized. "Think about it. Love is like this bond. It's a good feeling, but it also can fucking hurt. You can love someone so much that they feel suffocated. Love doesn't run the world. Greed and deceit do, and that greed is fed by the love of money. Deceit is generated by the love of getting ahead of others. We're pathetic walking bags of bones. We don't love anyone. We just want more, and nothing will ever suffice." I watched as he frowned, biting his bottom lip. "I fucking want to hate everyone." "Then go ahead and hate everyone, nothing's stopping you." "True. Very true. Nothing is stopping me, but my hatred of the human race flows into every action I do. It's like I can't think of anything different other than the fact that I hate the human race as a whole." "You do realize you're human as well, right?" "No, Holly, I didn't fucking wake up and realize that I'm human." He sighed heavily. "I hate myself just as much as I hate everyone around me. I disgust myself with a simple glance in the mirror. I want to rid myself of being this disappointing life and wasteful body. You asking me that is like me asking if you knew you were black. Fuck off." "You have strong opinions for someone who hates everything." "You haven't figured this out? I'm an ass. This isn't news anymore, Holly." He started to walk away from me and I went down another aisle of books, the science fiction section. "Are you scared to die?" I asked him. He was silent for a bit, and I thought perhaps he hadn't heard me. "Oli? Did you hear me?" "I did. I'm thinking." Those words could be taken in various ways. Oli thinking could be bad thing or a good thing, depending upon whatever he was thinking about. "It feels weird to say this, but no, I'm not afraid to die. I embrace death in a way. I find comfort in the reminder that I will cease to be living one day. Fearing death is a tad pointless, don't you think? Because it's painfully unavoidable." "So you're not even scared to die alone?" "My dear, we all die alone. No one dies with us. Even people who die at the same moment we do, don't really die with us. Dying is an individual thing, I think. When we die, our mind and souls evacuate our bodies, leaving nothing but a carcass here. I also think that if you're afraid of winding up alone, you need to reevaluate your life choices. Or maybe I only think that way because I think being alone is perfectly acceptable." "But so is being surrounded by other people who care about you." "Is it? How do you ever know that someone cares?" "Trust. You trust and believe that they do." "That sounds like a blind person trying to navigate their way out of a burning skyscraper."

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Josie was painting my nails. The smell made me dizzy and want to vomit. She'd told me that my nails looked horrid and bland. So she was painting them bright red. Teacher red. The red you see old women paint their nails. Josie says the color is 'sexy', I thought it screamed 'old'. "You have really pretty nails. Like, they're thin." She mumbled, swiping another long trail of the hideous red color. "No, I have healthy nails. Big difference." I corrected her. "Thin doesn't mean pretty, just like fat doesn't mean ugly. The only truly beautiful form is a healthy one." "Missy was right; you are smart." Josie laughed a little before painting another swipe of red on my pinkie finger. "She also told me that you'd wanted to be a teacher." "I did." Why in the hell was Missy telling Josie about what we talked about? Nothing against Josie, it was just that I felt if I wanted Josie to know, I'd fucking tell her. "What else did she tell you about me?" "She told me a lot of things. I think that she might even be a bit jealous of you." "Why would she be jealous of me, we're all living pretty shitty lives." "True, but c'mon, you're insanely pretty, you're somewhat a thing with Oli, you're smart, and your parents never cut you off anything." "But Missy is 'insanely pretty' as well. My relationship is a bit odd, and isn't something I could see Missy being envious of. And I'm only as smart as you perceive me to be." "All of that is something envy-able would say." "Envy-able?" "Able to be envied. Pretty sure that's a word." "I don't think it is." "And you would know that because you're smart." She sat back, admiring the work she'd done on my nails. "All done.""Thanks." I blew on my nails. "They're pretty and look so much better." I was lying. I knew I was lying too. I grabbed the bottle of nail polish. "Now let me do your's." I didn't plan on being the only one with that horrendous shade of red streaked onto my nails.

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Lying on my bed in a sweatshirt with no pants on is the best feeling ever. Especially whenever it's raining and you can hear the rain splattering against the windows. Like a tinkling sound, a sound that can't really be faked. Tiny droplets that travelled from the heavens down the the surface, pounding against your window and blessing everyone's eyes with their beauty. Thoughts like that were bliss, because with those thoughts, I can truly appreciate my thoughts aloud. Until someone interrupts them. "HOLLY!" Shay yelled, scrambling under my covers, wrapping his arms around me. "Shay? What the fuck, I don't have pants on!" I said, a bit embarrassed at him seeing me in underwear. He just shrugged. "I don't care about your-" He shuddered. "Panties." He spoke the word as if it was filth and the dirtiest word in the entire English language. "Why are you in here?" I asked him. He glanced at me. "I'm scared and Tyler's with a client." He explained. "And I needed a cuddle-buddy, so now I'm here." "You like Tyler, don't you, Shay?" I asked him, a shit-eating grin spreading across my face. He blushed, his cheeks resembling the color of a young girl's bedroom. "I do, and it's bad." He admitted softly. "I know he does too, because he told me so, but it wouldn't work out." "Not with that attitude it won't." I said as thunder shook the house slightly. "I think it could work, and you two fit together really well." "But, Madame doesn't like us dating each other. She doesn't like anyone dating at all." "She hasn't stopped Ashley and Jake though, and I seriously doubt you and Tyler would argue that much." "She doesn't stop them because they're like addicts to each other. Jake says that he hates being with Ashley, but loves her so much he hates her. It sounds fucked up, but I guess it makes sense." "How the fuck does that make sense?" "You can love someone so much that it sickens you. Because you loving them is weakening you, and you hate them for it, but at the same time, you love them unconditionally." He sighed. "I'll admit it is fucking odd, but eh, it's none of my business." "So, you won't be with Tyler because...?" "I'm not saying I won't, but I just don't think it'll work out well." He smiled at me. "Enough about me, how're you and that brooding dude downstairs?" "It's good. Sometimes I can't tell if we're having an argument or just a disagreement. I mean, we're two different people, but we have a lot of the same beliefs on a lot of things." "Is it easy being with him?" Now I was the one biting back a smile and looked away from Shay. "It's as easy as breathing."