Untitled, By Unknown

2: Introduction

Writing time: 23rd October 2016

'It's like a whole world in his head'- John Watson, Sherlock (The Abominable Bride), 2016. Aired January 1st- the same day I came out to my parents after a sweet-induced panic attack (don't ask- honestly, it's kind of embarrassing, damn potential anxiety) which meant we started watching 17 minutes late. You think that's obsessive detail? Wait.

So... Hi. I'm- well, that's irrelevant. So is every other name, place and specific noun I could mention. They're overrated anyway, therefore I'm not going to use any of them. Complete anonymity for all parties. Why, you ask? Or, you know, don't ask but are getting told anyway because fuck you (just kidding. I'd rather not fuck you. Well, it depends who's reading- if it's Him, then definitely fuck you [which I do mean as a compliment]. But considering I'm going to mention Him later, I'll likely not introduce Him to this- unless I use this as a way to ask Him out- so no, I don't want to fuck you. Sorry). I'm not using names for the sake of it. It's a bit more fun, and it means I have to think of elaborate code names- or not so elaborate- instead. Well, plus reason two: all of this happened. Every word.
In fact, it's still happening. It's my life. Everything that will take place in this is true. I've got so many chapters planned, eighteen to be precise, but that number is going to go up. Maybe when Halloween hits. Christmas. The day I get the balls to ask Him out. Who knows?
People who I know will read this. They may be shocked. They might think: 'Seriously, you cared about that?' Yes, I did. Because they don't understand me. Not in an angsty way, it's just fact, but then I suppose nobody understands anyone fully. You can't be aware of every thought to cross a person's mind. I have a friend who wrote a dramatised story about her life. Similar to me of course, except this won't be exaggerated. My point is, she included a fictitious version of me, and wrote a P.O.V chapter. The dialogue was reasonably close, but she just couldn't get inside my head. I could hear my voice in the wrong body. But this- now this is me.
So no names, no places, nothing. I'll give you some information. I'm left-handed, left-wing, and left thinking of something else I can link to 'left'. Atheist. Male. Sixteen years old. A resident of the U.K. with the generic accent to prove it. Also incredibly obsessive. You'll likely pick out the particulars as I go along. And then there's my major 'talent'- I can make a reference out of anything. Literally anything. Pick a topic, any random phrase- I'll find something. Hence the quotes. I'm relating life to fiction. My knowledge of obscure shit is unbelievably vast. For example, I can name every episode of Doctor Who since 2005... and their series/episode number... and in most cases the air date... and in some the writer. For example, erm... Series 7, Episode 3- A Town Called Mercy, 15th September 2012, written by Toby Whithouse. Yes, this disturbs me too.

But yeah. That's me. And this is my life- well, the last four (at the time of writing) months of it. So far, you know little. I mean, we're only two chapters in, were you expecting any more? But I'll expand on that as we go- a bit. Still no names though. Because fuck you (or not. Or, definitely yes).