Short Story

I felt expelled and exiled. Disgraced in the eyes of those who once knew me. But who was I now? What does one do after utterly demolishing any remnants of trust amongst friends? I was alone.

It started with my inner turmoil. I'd never been 'normal' like everyone else, and it hadn't gotten better with time. That old saying was complete bullshit. Talking didn't help, either, so I turned to blogging. There was something therapeutic about writing everything down...and I mean everything, from conversations with friends to my own thoughts and feelings. My blog was hardly special, mostly day to day events, dramatised as much as possible to create something more interesting than the monotony that was my life. But I guess when you write everything down publicly, eventually someone also living their lives in a mixture of dreamed up situations and online drama will find it...and the cycle begins.

My best friend...or, I guess former best friend now, Lana and I blew off a party. We were never the social type, and the eyes seemed to be peeking out of every nook and cranny, silently watching, judging. So instead, we drove around laughing about the once awkward, stuttering boy now turned drunken Casanova, stumbling after Lana and I. Ironically, we stumbled with laugher into the bottle shop, swooning over the cashier for a discount. I sighed in relief as we rediscovered the comfort in the privacy of my room. The drinks came out as we chattered like magpies under the glistening morning sun. The spell of alcohol loosened our tongues and our intimate thoughts and secrets floated off our tongues into the atmosphere. As I finished my slightly embellished story of breaking my bullies nose with 'just one blinding hit', we fell eerily silent. After what must have been an eternity, I looked up from my stupor to witness Lana angrily flicking away tears in embarrassment. I knew better than to press her, so I murmured 'Well...your turn!' Unbeknownst to me she was about to unleash her darkest secret onto me, and the horror seemed to cling onto my chest even when the reliving ceased. We were closer in and from that moment than ever before, her secret bonded us like a moth to a flame.

Blogging about that night was all too simple, I only needed to utilise more appropriate language for a story, and voila! I never expected anybody to actually READ my blog. But, I suppose a nameless, faceless internet addict discovered it and

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