My note: The names were changed, but the situation wasn't.
Since When Did Vince Matter? Part 1
Vince didn’t have many talents, nor was he that good looking. He wasn’t popular, and he wasn’t very intelligent. He didn’t play sports because he just wasn’t good at any. He hated public speaking, and doing any kind of work assigned to him. And since he wasn’t that smart; he never got good grades. He was lucky if he got a C.
But, Mark, he was perfect. Mark was Vince’s older brother. Mark had talent, played sports, could have any girl he wanted. He got straight A’s, and was on the debate team. Mark had everything, and Vince had nothing. Vince always thought he had gotten the short end of the DNA stick, pulled the short genetics straw. He often blamed himself for his parents’ divorce, surely someone like Mark couldn’t be the cause of it. Vince had grown angry with himself, and everyone around him.
The only person he ever trusted, ever liked, ever loved, hadn’t been seen or heard from for around two months. Of course, Vince new the exact days; he had counted them. His father hadn’t written any letter, called, emailed, or even left a message on the phone. Everyday after school Vince would rush into the house and check the mail, the answering machine, and the computer, but he hadn’t found anything in 56 days. This wasn’t like his father; he always called everyday at four, and one in the afternoon on the weekends. Vince had begun to blame not only himself and his utter worthlessness, but he started to hold his mother responsible, saying she had told him not to call. He had even gone, as far as to accuse his brother, Mark, but he never did give a reason. He could never bring himself to blame his dad. His father would never do something like this to him. But Vince had called, and called. His father was always to busy to talk, or not there at the moment. And all at once Vince had begun to change his opinion. He was being ignored.
And late one grave evening, pacing around his room. The phone rang and Vince, as he had every time it rang since his father’s last call, ran to the phone and hastily picked it up, but it wasn’t his father. It was his mother’s new boyfriend, and with that more pain and misery flooded his body. He felt like the rainfall in the valley that was him had begun to fall faster, and faster, and now the rainfall had stopped; his valley was full and over flowing starting floods of it’s own outside his valley and into others. He had had enough of this. He couldn’t take it anymore. He just wanted to run away; leave his god-forsaken family in the dust. Tell them that he did matter. He was important. And he did.
The end of Part 1
Part two will be up tomorrow!
