The lemon (Revised)

Lewis Hempton is a 15-year-old boy who have lots of problems controlling his temper. Some think it's his own fault, some think he's crazy but no one can't really figure out what's wrong. This is my entry to the Diary competition. I hope you like it. It was painful to write.

After 2 years leave I have decided to return and start writing again. To start with I revised this short story, which is still my favourite.


3. Nov 16 2012 - Shut up and listen

Dear Diarrhea


He fucking called the cops on me! Can you believe it? Trevor makes fun of me, forces me to have an outrage and hit him with a chair a couple of times and then he squeals for the Po's! Mother took me to the attorney today. He said I might be put into some kind of institution with round the clock staff to watch me. It all depends on the judge he said. Mr. Jenkins, the attorney, and Dr. Snail said they want to perform a couple of test on me, to see if I'm a lunatic. Well, they didn't say lunatic but crazy or not I ain't no fool.

"If we can prove that your behaviour is caused by a mental illness, Lewis, the Judge might go easy on you" Mr. Jenkins said in this annoying voice that grown-ups use when talking to small children. I'm fifteen for god's sake!

"Without a diagnose, the judge will see you as nothing but a maladjusted child. He's going to send you to an institution, Lewis. We can't have that, can we?"

His voice made that angry feeling emerge in me, so I went outside before I would be looking for a new attorney. Why do I get so angry, Diary, I really don't get it! I just want to be left alone but the fucking boys at school wont stop teasing me. They know I get mad and they're only trying to provoke it! I tried to tell the teachers but they are all "foot in mouth and head up ass-hole" as I say.

"OK, Lewis, I'll have a talk with the other boys after class and tell them a thing or two," my maths teacher said the other day when I confronted him with my problem. And what did he do after class? Well, he grabbed Trevor on his way out of the classroom and said, very politely;


"Yes?" Trevor answered slightly befuddled yet still in an overly pleasing tone. God damn kiss-ass!

"Have a nice day Trevor, see you tomorrow." He padded him on the shoulder and went out.

That day I really felt an itchiness in my fingers. Boy did I wanna smack the one with the other!

Later that black void-like feeling started to grow in my stomach again. Since you don't have a stomach you wouldn't know what I'm talking about, Diary. I just feel so alone and empty inside, like I don't know who I am or where I'm going. It's like the only way I can get rid of that feeling is to cut it out of me. It does help actually, though I can't explain why. Unfortunately, I'm having trouble hiding the scars from my mother. I wouldn't want her to see me like that. 

"Why don't you ever wear those T-shirts I bought you. Lew?" Mother had asked me one day, " Aren't they cool or whatever you kids call it?"

"No mom, they're fine. I just like long sleeves at the moment, OK" I said trying to fob her off.

Dr. Snail thinks I have a depression. Damned shrinks wanna put a predicate on everyone, like no humans are 100 percent sane. I think Doctor Snail is the one projecting things (I found out what it means now ha-ha). The diary thing was a good idea though I'll give him that. You, diary, are the only one who listens to me and don't have a fucking opinion on everything. You don't judge me and try to squeeze me into one of these "boxes" where you don't belong. I wish society were made of the likes of you, Diary. Then people who doesn't really fit in along with all the "normal" people, would have a place to belong, a place to feel accepted and understood. I guess that's not going to happen is it? I guess, to society, a diagnose is a synonym for acceptance and i'll just have to live with that. If only people would just listen sometimes. Shut the hell up and listen, the world would be a much quieter place. I'm glad you'll listen, Diary. Thank you.


Lewis Hempton  

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