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Ellsworth

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Everyone’s always so quick to tell you you have so much potential but really that’s just code for you’re currently a shitty waste of space but with some grooming you could maybe be a human I’d be half-proud to stand next to.

“All personal items here, please.”

It’s so easy to have friends when you’re willing to do any and everything they want you to at all times. It gets less easy the second you suggest something different, the second you disagree. Then you’re unreasonable. Then again, not everyone can have a singular subset of ‘peculiar’, ‘childish’ interests so it’s probably just my fault.

“If you have any weapons, sharp items, medications and the like, please surrender them now.”

God forbid you have a hobby or interest that your friends find nonsensical, you may as well hang a big sign on your back that says kick my ass, I deserve it and while you’re at it just don’t bother inviting me to anything, I’d bring the whole mood down.

‘I’m just trying to help’ is code for ‘You’re pathetic. You should really take my advice.’

‘No offense’ means ‘of course this is offensive, but I’m gonna say it anyway and if you don’t want to be offended then maybe you should be more normal’.

And ‘I’m worried about you, Quentin’ when it falls from Julia’s lips as she cuts off another Fillory conversation means ‘for the millionth time, Quentin, get a fucking life.’

“Name?”

“Quentin Coldwater,” I say between thoughts. My mouth is dry and there’s a funny tingle in my head, like cotton, foaming up my thoughts.

“Are you visiting or checking in?”

I take a deep breath. I’m not nervous, just overwhelmed by the fact that I belong here. I give my answer.

“Checking in.”