The Forgotten (boyxboy)

Chapter One: Locklan

Do you have secrets?

Of course you do, everyone does. It's in our nature to harbour things from each other, from the world and even ourselves.

We keep them inside us, bury them away for a reason, right?

We smother those dark little things so that the world we wake up to seems better, is better, lighter, more promising somehow.

But it's not, that the biggest joke of all. It's filthy, the world. We're just walking on bones and dirt, blood and shit, pretending things are okay, that every thing will turn out fine. Like we're not making the same mistakes over and over again and then giving birth to more mistakes, more pain and suffering.

You see it everyday. In everyday people. The do-gooders and bible bashers might have you fooled but even the most devout, the most pure, live by the same thread as us all. Even they are bound to have their own skeletons.

It's kind of comical. The way people smother these secrets, even little afflictions, because they don't belong in a world of idealists, do they? In a world we're we are taught, egged on and sometimes even, would you believe it?, expected to be happy.

I suppose you're one of them as well? The ones who tucks themselves in bed, puts on their nice clothes in the morning, exited for the day to begin again. To set out on that endless quest for happiness. Dreaming like a fool of who you could possibly be today? What you might achieve?

Have I gotten you upset? I apologise. My sister always tells me I'm a pessimist. Maybe I should start to listen to her.

I'm sorry, honestly. I think I was nice once, you know, before it all. Before life happened I guess but I think you'll
sympathise with me soon. You know how I know that? Because as crazy as it sounds I have been blessed. That's right, unlike everyone else, staring at their phones, their plasma TVs, their books or out of windows, I have the true vision. I see things as they are.

You see everyone's life has a facade. This facade, pretty and pleasing, stays intact for childhood but when you start to get older, with each passing year, your odds of penetrating that veil begin to sky rocket. And once the facade lifts and fades off into nothing, life arrives, slaps you firm across the face and croons: "Got you, sucker."

I don't live in fantasy, I don't care for make believe crap on the tv or in books, I live in the moment. I am keenly aware. I am alive. I am awake.

So why the hell is everyone else still asleep?

That's a good question. I'm hoping someone can join me, being alone is great for sure but it would be nice to think that the world isn't full of sheep following false idols and flimsy promises of happiness.

I don't talk much. I don't have many friends. I don't like other people really. It's not because I am mean, it's because I just don't know how. I don't know how to be a friend anymore, how to be of service to someone like that. Basically I suck at keeping people in my life, it's like everyone got a god damn handbook on how to live a normally, how to have and be everything normal, and they do it so well. Meanwhile I have no clue how to do anything properly.

The sad thing is, once I think I had a chance. You know? Like years ago somewhere along the line, I missed the opportunity to be like them. To be everything my parents, my family and society wanted me to be. You know how I know I missed it? Because of the feeling, the feeling that absolutely nothing is going to work out well. Nothing. I'll just be in a trash can full of the rest of the worlds off cuts.

The lost ones. The weirdos and freaks. The sexually and morally ambiguous ones. The wasters. The kids on meds, and in and out on hospital beds. The ones who take drugs to feel, or not feel. The ones who drink to escape it all. The ones who take days off of school or weeks. The ones when they're at school hide in toilet stalls or stay in the library all day. The forgotten ones, the toys that life never really cared enough to pick up, dust of and utilise. I am certainly one of those. You know the ones I'm talking about? Great. Maybe you're one too.

But what happens to them? To us? The parts of the populace that are deemed no good. The ones that are doomed to linger in their hopeless existence. I'll
tell you what happens, we are reminded day in and day out that we are no good, that we don't belong and don't matter. It's not so much the peoples fault, really, it isn't. It's the world, it's encouraging us to bloody give up already. The odds are stacked against us, life doesn't want us. Could
you possibly imagine how that feels?

I have no idea why I haven't given up yet. I'm only sixteen. Sixteen and I already wish it was all over. That's pretty sad, huh?

So where am I? On my way to my new school. My mums driving me. She doesn't like to talk much either. She let's the radio softly mull over the lack of conversation, the undeniable, colossal rift between us.

The next few moments blur, blend into one swarm of movement. Disassociation. That's what my therapist called it. That out of body, this isn't my life, this isn't happening kind of feeling.

Next thing you know I'm being led to class by the principal. My mums gone and I see fluorescent lights, far too bright for nine in the morning guiding me.

The principal opens the door and I hear it. Chatter. The odd warm sound, seeping like gas into the hallway. So unfamiliar, so rich and diverse. So wild. It felt, it pulsed with, life itself and I shuddered at it. Squeezing the straps of my bag in response.

I enter the room, the chatter stops, retreats as I do so. Can you blame them? Some tall, skinny, no-hoper is joining them. I even heard someone snicker at me.

I see some girls look fairy disappointed that the new kid isn't hot. The way all girls look at me, they aren't interested. Nobody is.

That's when I saw him. The quick glance was all I needed. I didn't need to indulge his ego in staring like everyone else must have done his whole, un-miserable life.

The golden boy. The regulatory, unblemished, perfectly perfect, aryan that has to be in every school and let everyone know that no matter how beautiful, how talented or perfect they might think they are, he is better.

Sitting up the back with all those carbon-copied jock types that do everything loud. The ones that bask in the freedom and opportunity they were given, yet didn't earn. The cool guys that I always feel so far away from.

I slump down in my seat as the plump, rosy cheeked teacher asks my rounds of questions. Oblivious that I honestly don't care about being at school, that I'm not excited for class or particularly
interesting either.

How the hell can I answer everything with everyone's eyes on the back of my head like that?

Life comes to my ear, churning and giggling at it's latest trial set out for me: "Survive this one, sucker!"

Great. Let's see how long it takes for me to get expelled, shall we?

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Thanks for reading, I know this chapter is quite depressing but please leave a comment if you liked it. I'm new to Wattpad and would appreciate the feedback. Thanks 😀