A stupid dog is trying to live a life

The huge auditorium, during which lectures on physics and mathematics were held, was filled with noise and voices: the physicist was late for the couple, which is why they freely communicated with each other. No one sat in their seats, except those who were especially bored. However, small circles of girls and boys also gathered around them. So, a student with long black hair was surrounded by several girls who tearfully asked him for a childhood photo, hoping to get to know his past better. Rummaging through Odnoklassniki on his mother’s page, they found mostly photographs of his school time and shared that lately his former self had stood out among his present self. Fingers flipped through many photos, but lingered on what was done two years ago: a young man, whose haircut was many of the current sizes, in a colorful sweater, stood under a lantern and smiled softly. Now they saw a guy with a serious lack of sleep and a dark cloud over his head. - And you have changed a lot! — the blonde blossomed, turning over her owner’s phone. A new trend from social networks popped up in her head, where people who were different from their past images and events really hurt them a lot. She thought it was a great joke. — What, did it hurt? Thick eyebrows arched in bewilderment, looking first at the pretty doll’s face, and then at the photo. My heart sank unpleasantly, and memories came flooding back in a violent wave: At dusk, Voronezh looked especially beautiful, and walking near the Intercession Cathedral was truly breathtaking. The lanterns were already emitting orange light, illuminating the way for people. The mother drove a sixteen-year-old teenager under one of the lamps, opposite the cathedral, and demanded that he smile. He, being suspicious of such places, felt bad here, because he began to look around absentmindedly, clutching the strap of his backpack in his hands. Click. Flash. And in the resulting photo, only the smiley face on the bright blue sweater with yellow sleeves is smiling. The young man himself acted as if he was forced to be photographed under pain of death. - Miroslav! — the woman casually lowered the camera, frowning at her son. The father stood aside, his hands were in his jacket pockets, his cold gaze was fixed on Miroslav. Several emotions replaced each other on her swollen face, trying to cope with her condition and give out what her parents wanted. The mother would forgive her if she made a joke out of this, but the father would never do it. Denis Isaev, the owner of an IT company, did not hesitate in anything, even in ordinary things. His thin fingers trembled, his palms sweated, causing the already slippery fabric to run out of his hands. The teenager grabbed him more tightly and squeezed out a smile, which was difficult to get to the bottom of unless you checked with a magnifying glass for any discrepancies with the emotion of happiness. Raisa hurried to take another click on the camera after she looked at the photo with satisfaction and boasted about it to her husband. The lantern shone gently on him, as if he were on stage under the spotlight. Only he was not the main character of his life, whom the audience watched with interest and empathized with him, a doll in the hands of a callous, mediocre puppeteer. An illuminated circle separated it from the rest of the blurred, but at the same time obvious material. The sky, covered with dark clouds, reflected his depressed state, the sound of the wind behind his ears, further alienating the teenager from everyone. Now he was like in a flask. Stretch out your hand and you will face an invisible wall. His eyes stung, and the images in front of him blurred. But does it smell like he’s publicly nagging? Not at all. Miroslav lowered his head down, focusing all his attention on the trash can a little further away from him, and stood there, preferring to merge with the tiles. With his peripheral vision, the young man noticed the movement and straightened up sharply, ready for anything. However, they are not for him. The parents, something was discussed (or rather, Raisa was constantly talking about something, dragging the man towards the street musician, and he listened to her attentively), left without him. And his heart began to beat wildly, echoing throughout his body, and a wave of thoughts rushed into his head, causing it to ache, making him feel nauseous. What about him? He didn’t know, but for him it was a mixture of anticipation and the sound of being able to recreate the obsessive thought of escaping. One leg stepped back. Then the second one. A few more steps back, and the teenager ran in the opposite direction from his parents. I ran as fast as I could. He also didn’t know where to run, he simply turned onto a narrow road, not remembering the blurring private houses. In the gathering darkness, the teenager saw how these houses towered above him and threatened, like monsters, to devour him. He ran for a long time, exhausted, but without stopping for a second, even looking back, without turning around. However, the narrow path came out onto a road with speeding cars. He noticed this only halfway through the journey, when the disgusting sound of a truck horn hit his ears. Life flashed before his wide eyes, but thinking about it prevented others from doing so. Miroslav came to his senses and Miroslav came to his senses and continued to run until the man who stopped the car on the side of the road got out and rushed after him. He didn’t want a fight. So Miroslav, in his haste, did not choose a path, turned into the parking lot, and then completely ran out onto the embankment, encountering the cold and sickening smell of the reservoir. Here he already fell to his knees, tearing them bloody through the fabric of his black jeans, but in his attempts to catch his breath he completely ignored the pain. When the noisy, intermittent breathing, sore his throat, became quieter, the teenager looked around: there was no one around. Behind the lush birch trees, the light of the lanterns almost did not reach him. He was kind of in the cabin. For the time being, of course. But the teenager didn’t think about what he should do now. More precisely, I had no idea. They will find him anyway. They’ll get it out of the ground. Sticky, nasty, making him shiver no less than his father, the thought crawled towards him on the ground again, grabbing him by the ankles, and then rising higher, intending to devour him slowly, in order to savor every bite. Miroslav trembled, as if he had been thrown out into the cold without clothes, and wrapped his arms around himself. He often harmed himself, either by overloading himself with his studies, or by being driven because of his father’s disapproval, or physically, by running a variety of sharp objects that his hand could reach across his wrists. It didn’t kill him, because he knew at what angle to do it so as not to bleed out on the spot. He didn’t want attention to himself either: on the contrary, he would like to hide from it all. But that sobering feeling of pain gave Miroslav for a moment some kind of awareness, a sense of reality. That he is not in a nightmare or an illusion. The idea of suicide loomed before him, like a red rag in front of a bull, but was always put aside as a backup plan B. Did he have a choice? Could he live differently and find a compromise with his father? The pulsation in his temple did not allow the young man to think. Nevertheless, the answer to all the questions was found a long time ago: the parents do not need a son, society does not need Miroslav, and he does not need captivity, in which he could not even breathe outside the schedule. With a noisy exhalation, he rose from his knees, swaying from side to side. The hum of cars could be heard in the distance, and somewhere else even the cheerful laughter of people could be heard, but only splashes of water and his own heartbeat, which had sunk somewhere into his throat, sounded clearly to him. Black eyes fixed on the low forged parapet, and the limp body wandered towards it. Maybe this is the only outcome for him? His hands dropped to the cold metal, clenching on the bars, and he leaned forward for just a second, calculating the distance. If he were even better, they would love him. I looked around again — no one. The world in front of him was spinning from the overabundance of the jumble of feelings that overwhelmed him. Fear, resentment, excitement and even freedom coming from the icy air. There was no point in thinking about the past and summing up the results. He was never worthy. Having made up his mind, the teenager threw his leg onto the parapet, intending to climb over it. Manic courage, coming out of nowhere, cut him off from the bustling city. He never liked it here. From birth, instead of the love that they tried to instill in him, only hatred for the city and the people inhabiting it was deposited in him. - World! — a woman’s voice cut through the deafening silence in the young man’s mind. Miroslav turned, getting rid of the obsession, noticing his mother in the distance, running towards him in her heels. He, frozen with one foot here, the other on the threshold to his end, opened his eyes wide in disbelief. Was he found too quickly or did he wait so long? But before he even threw his other leg, Raisa grabbed his sweater and pulled him towards herself, with some difficulty pulling out the weak, but almost adult guy. He found himself back on hard concrete. The exception was that now he was hugged tightly by trembling arms. Raisa was crying. Before her eyes, her own son tried to commit suicide. - Well, why are you so… And he knew that the woman truly loved him and cared for him as much as she could before her father’s first warning. His heart pricked unpleasantly, filled with a feeling of shame. Miroslav did not blame her, trying to enter into the precarious position of a woman in the family. But, being essentially an unloved child, how could he unquestioningly take everything for granted? - Miroslav, — she grabbed his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her and not to the side. — I’ll talk to my father, really! Just please don’t do this again. Everything will work out, do you hear? — her beautiful face wrinkled and flushed from shed tears, but now she had no time for her appearance. — I won’t survive if you die. The woman could not stand it, hiding her face on her son’s shoulder, again bursting into sobs. Passing cars whistled and disappeared into the foliage of birch trees, and behind him the water beat against the embankment. Miroslav was exhausted this evening, completely empty. Automatically he hugged his mother back, hoping to calm her down at least a little. Can everything get better? He didn’t believe it. However, since God himself did not allow him to leave, Miroslav will continue to drag out his miserable existence. So a sixteen-year-old boy died on the embankment on July 22, 2019. On the same day, a completely different person was born, shackled by all the traumas that child had experienced. Returning from painful memories, Miroslav frowned, but quickly realizing that he was in the wrong place for his emotions, he returned to a neutral expression. - Hurt. Now give it back,” the guy extended his hand to his phone and without resistance they returned the property, which he placed face down on the table. The girls, slightly shocked by his honesty, wanted to ask something else, perhaps about details, but did not have time, because the physicist entered the audience and began giving instructions from the threshold.