The Forgotten Wolf

A New Start

How often in life do you ever stop and think to yourself? Not general thought, but truly focus and center on yourself. That tiny blip in your head where you question who and what you are. The moment right after you close your eyes before going to bed and think over the mistakes you've made and what you wish you had done instead.

I ask that question everywhere I go, every new town, every school, everyone. The few times people answer (instead of just ignoring me), I'm always puzzled by how few people reflect on themselves. No one seems to want to admit to being critical of themselves. The cracks, the faults, the mistakes we make are the things we try the hardest to cover up.

These pants are getting too tight

Am I not good enough for them?

Why am I always looked at?

We try our hardest to stop thinking about these flaws.

But what would you do if there was a mistake in you that is the thing that you're always thinking of?

I sometimes think that we as a sp--

"Mason?" a voice comes from downstairs, jolting me out of whatever writer's mindspace I had been in. "Hurry up. You don't want to be late for your first day".
I sighed and closed the worn journal I had just been writing in. Rubbing my bloodshot eyes, I looked over my shoulder at the new alarm clock sitting in the corner of my bedside table. Its bright LED numbers burned red through the sliver of pale morning light that dully shone through my ragged window curtain.

Shit.

I scramble out of the deep-recline lawn chair in front of my writing desk as fast as my sleep-deprived body could manage. Fumbling across my room, I accidentally kicked several of the empty moving boxes.

Shit, shit, shit, I think to myself. I had lost track of time when I was writing and now I'm going to have to hurry up, or I'm gonna miss the bus. After lumbering through my dark bedroom, scattering boxes and strewn piles of clothes everywhere, I finally found my school bag and my new uniform.

Rushing quickly out of my small bedroom, I run to the even smaller bathroom at the end of the hallway. Groping the wall in the darkness, my hand finally makes contact with the light switch. Several seconds of buzzing later and the dim halogen light flickers to life above me. With it, a reflection of my unkempt brown hair, my pale skin, the purple bags underneath my eyes, and the smallest bit of dried drool appear in the mirror.

"Double shit," I say aloud to myself. Twisting the arcane brass handle to the sink, releasing the water, I quickly grab a small shower bag. Opening it as fast as I could, I grab a small brush, toothbrush, and toothpaste.

After washing the sleep out of my eyes -and drool off my cheek- I begin to ruthlessly attack the wild bush upon my head that is my hair while trying to brush my teeth. It was a lost cause. My hair refused to lie flat. Instead, it just stayed in the same place, no matter how much I brushed it.

Ok, just play it cool today, Mason. A new school, that all it is. A new school with people who are going to like you, and talk to you. You will not be shy. You will be fun and charming. They will love you. They will want to be your friend and they will...notice the extremely large pimple that is currently taking up space on your forehead!

I quickly spit out the toothpaste from my mouth into the sink below me and lean forward towards the cracked, aged mirror and stare at myself in disbelief. No, not now. This can't seriously happen now. I splash some water on my face and inspect the mountain more closely. The large red mound was definitely noticeable against my pale, alabaster skin.