This is nothing fanfiction related. I just needed to let loose and clear somethings in my mind. Also I really needed and wanted to write this for a while.
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Who am I? That's the question that has been quite up in the air for a while now. Lately my mind has been scrambled all over the place. How that happened is quite a long story. Still interested if it's a long story? In that case we can proceed. I'm a male By the way...
This story begins a while back, around five years. At the age of twelve I first came to a new school (high school). The usual, where everyone has to adapt to the changes. Nothing to major. A new year where your childishness has to make space for the grown activity of actual studying. The same year where people start to develop their physique more and more. Girls were already amidst their growth while most of the boys were still their teeny tiny selves. During this year, most people would find new friends they'd keep throughout their entire school career. Not me...
All I can remember from before that year was that I had some friends, but it never really felt like that. I knew they were nice to me and vice versa, but it just never felt like I was really part of someone's group or circle of friends. I'd be the one person that is stood on the outskirts of the circle, desperately trying to stay in the conversation. Always present, but not really a part of them. It was a weird kind of lonely. On the other side were the people that would basically just exist and attract attention.
During my first year, I already had some good friends, and one I trusted in particular. He was and still is great, although he is an airhead. Of course there were more friends, but neither of them were dependable. They were the kind that support you as long as you agree with them. Mess up once and receive the cold shoulder. That's the treatment when you mess it up and that's exactly what happened near the end of the year. But shouldn't it be if you mess up? No, that's the lie everyone tells themselves. A stupid lie that only exists to sustain one's view of themselves. Those types of friends will leave you. Eventually they'll get bored of you and leave you all on your own for no clear reason other than them not caring. So then you're back to being on your own again. Except this time, you knew how it was to have friends. This time, you want to have people around you who you can actually trust. Not the fake ones, people who really care for you and for who you can care.
So we're onto the next year where the boys too had started their growth spurt. All the boys except a few who weren't so lucky. And guess who just so happened to be the exception. Everyone shot up in height, while all I could do was stare up at them. It used to give me quite the complex, considering I was one of the smallest students at school. Looking back, it's no big deal, but back then it was bothering me.
So the quest for people who I can call my friends continued and I eventually got along with a few boys. Those guys would prove to be more than reliable, although a bit stuck-up. What I mean is that while they do stick up for you, they weren't exactly the most open minded individuals. They were quite ... narrow for lack of better wording. Once they got a certain idea of view about someone, that would almost be impossible to change. Some of the people in the group were the same as before, but there was one that was way worse. He was my best friend and we used to do many things together. At least I thought he was my best friend...
One day in a class, some random classmate started pointing out that I made a lot of mistakes when I talked. No big deal to most people, it's quite common that someone has a period where they can't really get their point across and causes multiple arguments, right? Well he began making fun of every sentence. At first it was funny, even for me. Later on it became more and more hurtful. I'd complain about it to my small circle of friends, but never really dared to do anything about it. The others agreed to stop him if he truly crossed the line or see that I was at my limit. Well one day he went over that line, despite multiple people telling him to stop. How did he cross the line? He talked about dead relatives. My dead relatives. So he kept cracking jokes about my dead relatives and I was getting ready to actually punch him, which I don't like doing because violence wouldn't really help the situation. Anyways, about the time I cracked my knuckles, my best friend stood up without saying a word and walked to the jackass. He leaned on the desk in front of him ... and the guy starts laughing and joining in! in hindsight, jokes on them! The jackass broke his arm during gymnastics and my not-so-bestie fell down the stairs. (I didn't do it!)
