Here’s a sample of something I’ve written for National Novel Writing Month. Names aren’t final, grammar is horrible. Spelling definitely questionable. But it’s fun. So, here we go.

“What do you want?”

“Want?” Tobias cried, unable to control his frustation. “I want friends who will actually come and visit me. People who I can see and touch. Who doesn’t disappear into the depths of the internet. Who fail to return my pohne calls or texts. I want a job that I don’t hate. And to not get blown off. (Really though, a job I don’t hate would be an amazing start).”

His friend looked at him with pity. She didn’t understand. This was just life to her. She tought her excuses reasonable.

“You two…” Anger and resentment lashed from the whip of his words, “live two and a half hours away and I can’t get you to visit me. Three years.” He teeth nashed. “Not even after I kept asking and asking. I am not important enough.”

“We’re still your friends.”

“Conveintly for me, I suppose?” He sighed, defeated. “And I understood, I think. You had your life.And this technology always made it easier to appear as if we were connected. But no, you couldn’t even call me back. Or text. How fucking hard was that supposed to be? Getting back to me… Of all the God Damned hassels in the world… right? Such an inconvenience, such a burden to be friends with someone who isn’t conveient.”

“I’m sorry you feel this way.”

“Sorry?” Tobias’s eyes flew open in renewed rage. “You’re sorry? That’s amazing. Out standing. I’m so glad. Go fuck yourself!”

“HEY!” Braden grabbed Tobias’s shoulder. “Don’t you talk to her that way!”

Tobias shoved him away. “Yeah? I can’t express frustration or anger with you? What? We always have to pretend that everything is good? That I can be okay by continually being screwd over by people who claim to be my friends?”

Tobias slouched in his chair.

“I’m tired,” he said softly. Defeated. “Tired of trying so hard to get people to come after me, to make time for me… I’m tired of being forgotten… Just, why can’t people ask if I want to do something for once… I don’t know, maybe, if I could even reject them, it would be nice, but I know that makes me a horrible person. I feel horrible about something like that. The irony. I don’t have time. But at least I’d be the one saying it. And not someone else blowing me off.”

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