John’s change when Stanley made into his life – 01

This is a great story named “John’s change when Stanley made into his life” where 2 people fall into love.

As a psychology major, it never ceases to surprise me how deep human loathing can go. Oftentimes the most screwed up ones are ourselves. For every ten people that you meet, eight hate everyone, six hate themselves, but blame everyone else, three loathe themselves with depths unfathomable, and one or two out of those ten will never let you know just how disturbed they really are.

Actors are not just on the big screen in Hollywood, they are your next door neighbor, your roommate, your best friend, your sibling. Everyone wears a mask. And because the world revolves around you without you ever intending it to, you will never look as closely at them as you should. They don’t want you to, really, they would rather hide what they see as a weakness in the darkness of their souls, too proud to ask for help; dying inside without really knowing why.

I’m in that one percent. I can admit it to myself, that’s the easy part. I have a love hate relationship with myself; I love to hate myself. My family doesn’t know it, my best friends don’t know it, no one knows it but me. Even my college professor who is supposed to understand people better than they know themselves just thinks I’m a sarcastic prick. A talented sarcastic prick, but a prick nonetheless.

You may say that I’m self-destructive towards myself, maybe I am, but I don’t really care. All my life I’ve found no one to make me want to care, to make me want to help myself. Not even my family was enough to save me, sadly enough. Maybe it was because my twin died at birth and in some dark recess of my mind, I felt that death as surely as I was now waiting for my own. I don’t know.

It was surprising that I kept up good grades considering that I never studied. I did just about everything a good college student wasn’t supposed to do, but at least I never got caught.

Ah, but I’m a grand actor, you see. No one knew that I was slowly killing myself. They thought I just like to have fun. I was always kind to others, if not a little sarcastic at times. Okay, a lot sarcastic, but it was always good natured. My sarcasm was never cruel unless it was directed at myself and others simply saw it as a joke.

I couldn’t stand just sitting for any length of time. I had to be doing something, going somewhere. It was a need that I couldn’t seem to control, it would take over me, leaving me in a near panic if I stayed in one place for too long. As long as my subconscious was preoccupied, I was generally okay. I think that is the only way I was ever able to make it through my classes. My roommate, Dan, always thought it was funny that I was always wound so tight. He would always ask me if I’d ever been tested for A.D.D. like it was some big joke. Of course, I would just laugh and leave it at that.

I was running late for class this morning, grabbing my book bag, a few pills shoved into my pocket and out the door still throwing a shirt on as I went. Some of the students felt it was their duty to dress up a little bit for psychology class, seeing as how most of them were planning on being future psychologists.

This was not the case for me. Some baggy, torn jeans, and one ugly T-shirt Marvin the Martian was all Professor Hannigin was getting from me. The guy was lucky I was wearing shoes. As I slid into the class door near the back, I was trying to smooth down my bed head hair with one hand and grabbing a seat with the other. I was twenty minutes late.

Of course, there is no such a thing as sneaking into Hannigin’s class, it was physically impossible. The bastard had eyes in the back of his head, I swear. “Ah,” he said without turning from the black board, “So the infamous Mr. Joseph has decided to grace us with his presence, am I correct?” You could hear the glee in his voice that he’d actually caught me at something. He was always on my case for one thing or another, but that may have something to do with the fact that I was constantly correcting him in his own class. That’s just a theory, though.

Whereas most other students would have looked guilty, sliding down in their seats and apologizing, I just popped my pills in my mouth and swallowed them down with a swig of water, ignoring the man at the front of the class.

Now Hannigin turned around, staring straight at me with a look that I think had an evil red gleam to it. I’m sure he wished the school would allow him to take a whip to me, but wishes don’t always come true, thank God. “So, Joseph, what is your excuse this time? Too much partying? You felt you didn’t have to be here by the required time? Did you think class should just wait with baited breath for you to appear before really starting?”

“Sarcasm really doesn’t become you, Professor. Punish me or get back to teaching, but don’t waste these students’ time by trying to make me feel small in front of them. It won’t work.”

It was amazing how fast his face turned from pale and ugly, to red and ugly, to purple and down right horrifying.

I cocked my head to the side. “Now, now, Professor. Remember your blood pressure.”

After taking a very deep breath, the esteemed professor seemed to regain himself a bit. The class waited in strand silence waiting to see what would happen next. This was better entertainment than the summer blockbuster at the theater. “And you, Joseph, should remember your place. Now leave my class and don’t come back for the rest of the week.”

I watched him turn back towards the blackboard, dismissing me like some kind of peon. I’d love to just throw something at him, throw some kind of fit, demand he let me stay, but that would be what he expected of me. I don’t like to let him win, but I didn’t really have a choice. It was a lose-lose situation.

I gathered my bag, pushed back from my chair and headed for the door, calling out over my shoulder. “Fine, enjoy your week. Just remember, I still get an A if all the answers are right, whether you like me or not.”

I let the door slam shut behind me and stormed down the hallway. Didn’t really know where to go, or what to do. All my party buddies were still in class and I had the next five hours free. Shit.

First stop, Starbucks. It was really the only way to start the day for me. Call me a pansy if you will, but I love their White Chocolate Mocha Venti. Mmm . . .

It was a beautiful spring day and I had nothing to do. Crap! I hate not having anything to do! I can’t stand not doing something! Before long, I was walking to the very edges of campus, near the gym. I could work out, but then that would require effort and I wasn’t sure I was up for that yet. Still, I walked through the glass doors and sniffed in that overpoweringly manly scent of sweat, testosterone, and more sweat.

Grunts came from several of the guys lifting the weights, the slapping sounds of shoes on rubber sounded from the runners on the treadmills. A TV played in the corner, though most of the guys were busy listening to their own music as they worked out. I recognized several guys from our esteemed football team, heaving and grunting, throwing out the occasional encouragement to each other. The apes.

John’s change when Stanley made into his life will continue in the next page.

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