1.2 | sky blue

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( 1.2 ) j u d i t h

I GUESS I'M SUPPOSED TO BE living in some kind of coming-of-age story where I'm presumed to find the girl of my dreams, use up my youth in pointless 'you only live once' scenarios, and have the entire world center around me. But all that's just fiction, and never to be true.

And most of all, I don't plan to belt out in song in the middle of nothing. Maybe too much fictional expectations are not good for the mind and soul. However, reality isn't as good either.

I am told that I'm soulless and bitter, but I don't see the wrong in being realistic. People would remind me to see the positivity in everything, yet whatever's that happened is definitely for you to see, and not for you to hide it behind all your own lies. And of course, I was taught not to lie.

Monday mornings usually mean hundreds of students filling up the school building, some girls greeting their friends with a 'I missed you' when they clearly saw each other last week, and also some other kids who look dead inside due to their sleepless nights of endless homework. Maybe that's the world's way of greeting us on a brand new week.

But nothing's really brand new when you just repeat what you did the last few weeks, and wear the same shoes since the beginning of the year. The only thing brand new is when some random kid drops out because they can't handle it anymore, and you somehow kind of wished that random kid was you.

A little life sheds through when break time comes, when best friends and brothers come along and have fun for a short while. The mere 20 minutes helps keep everyone's mind in check, providing some air to breathe.

School's only fun when you have a tight knit of friends to go with, or someone special to see every day and say goodbye to at the end of the day. I wouldn't say I'm a complete loner, but I don't exactly belong in a permanent group of friends either. I'm friends with everyone, undoubtedly, but I never actually tied strong links with anyone in particular besides than my ex-girlfriend.

And you can safely assume she had already left me.

However I'm only here to prepare myself for what's coming after everything ends, and to not let my parents down.

I keep walking pass my classmates as I head to the soccer field. The amount of people on the field multiplies each week, sooner or later I wouldn't have this whole place to myself. I laid down onto the grass, staring blankly up to the sky. The color of the sky falls into a much deeper color, unlike its usual watery blue. It didn't look like it is going to rain, but the wind touches my skin with a soft chill.

Everyone around me didn't care too much about the weather, as they talk away in their groups. I thought I am the only one who's sitting all alone until my eyes dart around, simply looking at everything around me.

A boy with ginger hair sits with his legs crossed on the grass, admiring something in his hands. Though he sits alone, he didn't seem lonely at all. He looks happier than most of the people here, and he doesn't need all the pointless banter and jokes.

And that's the person I'll probably never be.

I keep looking around, but my eyes still stop a few seconds longer on him before moving on. His body drops casually onto the grass in grace, with a small flower between his fingers. He holds it up towards the sky, slowly letting the flower fall onto his face.

I've never seen anyone do that in my 16 years of existence, let alone a teenage boy. Boys my age only think about drinking, getting laid, and some about drugs. No one's actually pure at this age unless they were sheltered their whole life, but I doubt anyone would be sheltered to this extent at this time.

That ginger boy is no exception either. He's probably just passionate about flowers, and not a pure boy who knows no pain.

I take a look at my watch, soon realizing the last five minutes I have before class begins. It's the same every day, nonetheless people still complain about the lack of time to relax, even when you were given all these chances every day to spend them. But I guess that's just human error and not time's fault.

The remaining last few seconds keep ticking as I count down until the bell rings. I stand up on my feet, dusting away the dirt stains on my legs. The ginger haired boy is still staring at a flower sitting upright, unknowing of the flow of time.

The bell rings and echoes the school, everyone begins to scatter around and head back to class. Some would still groan in annoyance, while some would just walk without complaint.

Walking across the field, I realised the ginger boy left.

I walked as I thought, and a worn out sketchbook stops me by my steps.

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