style="font-size:15px;"> That’s when I start walking along the seafront. I’m shoving my phone back in my pocket as I walk. The rain’s pounding down on my head and the wind’s dancing across the Irish Sea. The wind’s circling me and making me feel like utter shite, like it’s telling me that my life’s not worth owt. I stop. I put my shaking hands onto the metal railings and look out to the sea. The cold wind stings my face. I hadn’t even realised I was crying. Estelle Jarvis is an utter bitch. I hate her. And Tommy Clarke is an utter twat. But it’s me that’s the biggest twat in all of this. What the fuck was I thinking? Why the fuck would someone as fit as Estelle Jarvis want to suck my cock? I’m the school fucking freak, why would she be interested in a twat like me?
I’ve no idea what to do next. I’m freezing, my uniform’s fucked, I’ve no one to turn to, I’ve nowhere to go. I’ve fuck all in my life. And somehow the wind’s telling me that my life’s not going to get any better. And somehow the wind’s telling me that this is it, that this is the best my life’s ever going to be. And somehow the wind’s telling me that all Arthur Braxtons are utter twats.
And that’s when I start thinking ’bout ending it all. I mean there, on the seafront, with the heavy sky and the freezing wind, that’s when I realise that I’ve nowt in my life. No mum, no dad who gives a fuck, no mates, beatings at school, and now I’ll always be known as ‘Cock Boy’. But more than that, I’m thinking that all Arthur Braxtons are fucked up and I don’t want to end up like my dad.
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