Introvert

4

''Darling, I am in
Hell without your lips on mine
So stop it, kiss me.'
~Unknown

||Shyanna||

Because of the distance between my house and my school, I never walk with Anna and Kristy. They are both close to the school, whereas I have to walk a quarter of a mile to get to the place I call home. I have always found home to be somewhat odd. Home is where you find yourself to be calm and happy, but I am never calm and happy at home. Not because I have a bad life, but because happiness and calmness rarely coincide. Happiness causes general excitement, shakes, a trembling of legs. Happiness is found, for me, in the art of poetry. 

Calmness, however, is the opposite. Calmness is stillness of body, perhaps not mind, a sort of release from the pressures that come with life. So, home is not calm and happy. It is content and calm, and there is a difference.

The quarter mile walk home is beautiful. I always take the longer route, because it lets me walk next to a river. The river is beautiful, fed by some underground spring. Not to mention the ducklings, that make me want to cry with the cuteness of their existence. The amount of hours I have spent by the river, writing out long pages of poetry, of endless universes in which plants can talk. I adore this place. This place is contentedness in the purest form.

But I don't dwell on it. I have twenty papers to deliver, and a bit of revision to do before my final Philosophy exam. I already know the material through and through, but I want to be sure.

I hurry home after realising the fact I have a limited amount of time to deliver papers, a reminder the local newsagents reminds me of every Sunday, and when I get home, I dump my bag and grab my bike before hurrying off. 

I cycle quickly towards the newsagents, and when I make it there, Simon is glaring at me. Simon is the owner of the store, and whilst he's great, he's also really easily angered. He never seems to realise I actually have to get an education, but does anyone? Does anyone realise the importance of an education before it is over?

Moreover, does anyone realise the importance of us, or do we all pretend? Do we pretend human consciousness is necessary for the state of our well being? 

"You're late," Simon mumbles, shoving the basket full of newspapers towards me, and I clip it onto the back of my bike. The bike tips with the weight of it, but I'm used to the sudden swooping feeling of feeling like you're about to die, so I simply kick the ground to steady myself. The first row of houses is just to the left of the newsagents, hidden by a large row of hedges.

I think back to this afternoon, with the hedges being the thing that stopped us seeing everything as it is, and find my mind swirling. It suddenly occurs to me that we will never know if something is happening on the other side of the 'hedge' (the hedge being the metaphorical guard of seeing things) unless we truly see it. Simon may be dead right now, but I will not know until I see him. 

The Schrodinger's Cat theory seems more prominent now than when it was thought out.

Perhaps my analysis of human life is odd, especially when it is made as I haphazardly swing newspapers onto front lawns, but I don't mind. My mind is, awfully, my own, and what I think will never be controlled, not by the hedges, not by the society that is wholly broken.

I am my own person, and although I work to make people happier, although I live up to another person's expectations more so than my own, I know I am still my own person. Inside, I am my own person and I am happy to be that person. Because despite my deep shyness and disliking for the norm, I am still human, and I will remain human even with hedges blocking my way. We are all bound by societal expectations, but it is on our own terms to decide whether we follow those norms or not.

And all of a sudden I am not thinking of hedges in my mind, but of Niall Horan and the fact that the hedge masks what I need to know about him. I want to mow the hedge down, want to know why he suddenly is talking to me, why I kept catching him staring in the last lesson, but also why in the hallway afterwards he pointed at me and grinned. I want to unravel the person who is not even in the slightest, a puzzle. He is predictable and loud, so why do I think of him in silence?

Why is he suddenly paying me attention? And why am I reading so much into it?

***

Getting home takes an hour and a half after that, and when I finally do, the last thing I want to do is revise. But I take out my books anyway, going through the motions. The finality of this year is slowly getting to me, and I'm beginning to feel worried despite the fact I know almost all of the material. It is occuring to me, slowly, that I will leave this school soon, and that when I do I will have a time to have a break. I will be able to get a good job (one has been promised to me), buy a flat, apply for literature at university.

 I find that my mind is looking forward to that more than anything, the moment when I will get to move away and have early morning lectures about the structural context of Dolce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen. 

I'm laying down and reading a few of my notes from earlier last year when the knock on my door snaps me up into place.

"Shy, you coming down for dinner?" Mum asks, peering her head round the door and giving me a motherly smile.

I sigh, rubbing my eyes, but internally thanking her, as well. I can barely decipher my notes, let alone take them in properly.

As much as grades matter to me, health is always more important. Plus I really, really like food. For, you know, poetic reasons (it's not for that at all).

||Niall||

The lads come round after school most days, so it's not surprising when they join me on  the walk back to my house. Zayn's texting Perrie, Liam's humming under his breath, and Harry, Louis and I are having a conversation about unrequited love. 

"Haz, you remember that time when Taylor dumped you?" Louis asks, a glint in his eye as Harry lets out an annoyed little groan of 'heyyy'.

"Oh, come on, it was hilarious. She wrote songs about you, mate." I say, clapping him on the shoulder. Harry rolls his eyes before laughing softly.

"Oh, shut up. You act like I'm the only one who ever got dumped. Lou did, too." Louis glares at Harry, crossing his arms across his chest and stopping walking.

Even for Harry, it was a low blow. Especially since Louis had come out only two weeks after that, receiving a barrage of hate from Eleanor for leading her on. He said it didn't hurt but the look of pain in his eyes when someone called him a fag said different. Every time someone conveyed disgust at his sexuality, the lads and I crowd around him for a while, reminding him he's a good person regardless of where he sticks his dick. At first, it had been confusing, because he'd sort of always seemed straight, what with dating girls, but when he came out he admitted it was only because his douche father was overly homophobic and he didn't want to ruin his parents' relationship.

"Louis, shit. I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean it like that at all, you know that." Harry says, instantly hugging Louis until Louis becomes a little more responsive.

Honestly, they say I'm stupid with wanting Shyanna, but at least I don't call her babe. 

In that moment, I realise that I am not ridiculous. People have crushes all the time. I am seen as ridiculous because normally the guy does not get the feelings like the girl does, but that's bullcrap. I can love anyone in the same way a girl can, and Louis and Harry prove that. Even though they aren't dating, whatever they have isn't totally platonic, and I just hope I can make Shyanna see that, too. I don't want a girl who is too high maintenance or scared to show herself. I want a girl who is shy until you get to know her, and then she gets obnoxiously loud. I want a girl, but more than anything I want Shyanna Rockley, who is not just a girl, but the epitome of beauty.

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