The Answer [ORIGINAL]

Chapter 1 - Stability

Happiness noun
hap·pi·ness

a state of well-being and contentment; joy

Question thirteen, Pre-AP US History pre-test.

The paper stared at me blankly and dared to question, "What is the meaning of happiness?" I loved philosophy with a passion, but this was history class. I thought it better to just answer it simply. Millenia would pass before I could even begin to fathom my thoughts into competent words, and I wasn't keen on brain dumping my feelings to a sheet of notebook paper anyway. I dragged my dark blue mechanical pencil against the page: a state of well-being and contentment; joy. I let out a quiet sigh as I swept away some unwarranted anxiety. Happiness, I found, was a funny, unpredictable thing, not unlike my life thus far.

    Classmates often refer to me as imperfect perfection; I'm deathly silent in school — I could honestly be compared to a wraith at times — but people find my strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes
'stunningly beautiful'. Besides my complexion, everything about me seems like something to ponder. My name, my nature, and my perspective are all oddities. I do not blame any bemused expressions or curious glances that happen to come my way. I question myself as well, actually, as I don't truly understand who I am or what I am supposed to be. My name is Happiness (who names their kid after a short-term concept?) but... 
I don't feel very happy.
Again and again, I find myself utterly alone and to myself, yet I don't try to combat the loneliness by talking to my peers. I find it so difficult to relate to other kids my age. They consistently come off to me as judgemental, close-minded, or even obnoxious at times. I don't want to waste away my time and deal with those things. I have other things to worry about-

The cacophony of school bells rang into my ear, shaking me from my overflow of scattered postulations.

Damn. I didn't even finish my test. After packing up my books, I took dreary steps out of the classroom, knowing I would have to finish the test before the end of the day. My junior high's typical tight and crowded hallway kicked my panic and anxiousness back into effect. I gingerly made my way around crowds of people and turned the corner towards my next class, Algebra (GROAN.) Caught in my sights was a boy, Cyrus. He was the only stable thing I really knew or had in my days.

Cyrus always assured me company, even though there wasn't a day where I did not slander or jibe him. Immediately after seeing me across the hall, he sauntered up to me with the most idiotic and goofy grin on his face. "What's got the she-beast in a twist this phenomenal, astounding, miraculous... (he trailed off into a vast array of synonyms for amazing) Monday morning?" His demeanor amused me, as it usually did. With a sardonic smile, I spoke, "The history teacher already has me becoming an angsty teen on the second week of school with such an unanswerable inquisition as asking the meaning of happiness. It's like asking life's purpose, you just never really know." We had a mutual share of exaggerated satire each day and every day. It was our thing, if you could call it that. Cyrus and I walked side by side to math class, mocking 'American school systems and their unequivocal brainwash from standardized testing and core curriculum'. I had always liked Cyrus better than the rest; he understood. He knew without words, he saw without looking, he got it without ever trying. He was kind enough to share his smile with me. He allowed me to really be who I am, whether that be the most cynical or the most intelligent being in the universe (it depends on the day, really).

The rest of the day went down how it usually does in a junior high. You constantly bring up how you're gonna go home and cry or die, you finally get home, you don't cry or die. You just, lie, a lot, to people who don't care what the hell you do when you go home. Because I've already accepted the fact that no one really bothers to care, I keep my mouth shut for as long as I am able. I went home silently, waved hello to my mother who was always watching Law and Order: Special Victims Unit reruns on the almost-but-surprisingly-not-broken television, and crawled up onto my top bunk (still being completely silent all the way, if you had a moment's doubt about that). I've wanted a bunk bed ever since I gained the ability to want things. I guess you could say I love sleeping high! (just kidding i dont do drugs or smoke anything im not a druggie promise) The funny thing is, I have never had anyone remotely close to a sibling to share the bottom bunk with. I mean, the mattress works as a nice table for my clothes, so don't mind if I do. To wrap up the typical day, I joined my mom on the couch to boggle at Ice-T's stupidity.