SO I WILL NOT ASK YOU
WHY YOU WERE CREEPING
IN SOME SAD WAY, I ALREADY KNOW
Growing up, I read so many books that I no longer felt as if the world I lived in was real; nobody I had ever met felt as real as those I read about in my books. That was un...
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Micheal Eric Pelletier was six years old when he ran away from home for the first time. He didn't go far, but it was far enough to escape his parents. He went to his grandfathers house a couple miles away. He sat on the front porch all night, sitting and watching as people hurriedly passed by on their way to get home, or wherever it was they were going.
To Micheal, that night wasn't only the night he ran away for the first time. It was also the night he realized everyone else was real.
As a child, you don't think about others. You're selfish, because you haven't been taught not to be.
Micheal realized that on the walk to his grandfathers house; tears blurring his vision as the bruises stood visible under the fluorescent lights. He passed by multiple strangers, none even granting him a second glance. Micheal remembers sitting on the porch until the break of dawn, thinking hard about how, in the "real world", nobody cared about you.
Micheal went home three days later, only to find that nobody had even realized he left.
Ever sense, Micheal had a new outlook on the world. Because, unlike everyone else, he didn't feel real anymore. Nothing felt "real".
"Real Life" was nothing like the imaginary worlds he would read about in his books. "Real people", were nothing like the adventurous, brave heros in the stories. "Real Relationships" certainly weren't anything like those he read about; couples in the books actually loved each other, they expressed it and did romantic things like dancing in the rain and grand gestures. Relationships in "real life" were filled with nothing but heartbreaks, empty promises, and endless let downs.
Hours upon hours, Micheal would sit and read while people bustled by doing their chores. It was easy for him to get lost in the printed words on the worn down pages, while he let his imagination run wild; then, he'd draw the detailed scenery he'd read about in his journal, or what he imagined the characters to look like. All whilst imagining himself as a heroic protagonist in an coming of age novel.
There was nothing particularly interesting about the young boy that really made him stand out; He was a short, skinny white kid with a bowl haircut. He went to an all boy catholic school his entire life where his mother worked. He lived in a small lower-class home with his mother, father, and his three siblings: Sophia, Kenny, and Richard. He liked reading books, and drawing. In fact, reading fast and drawing well are the only things he considered good about him... and there wasn't much.
Micheal wasn't really good at most things boys his age are usually good at; he couldn't play soccer like Richard, because he would trip over his feet, he couldn't play football like Kenny, because that involved pushing and shoving— and he had no upper body strength at all. He couldn't throw a ball if his life depended on it. He's never played video games before— because it never interested him, not to mention that they could never afford it. He's never read a comic book before either— despite his sister owning many. There was one physical attribute Micheal had— he was fast. The mile runs in P.E. were the only things He was good at, the only thing keeping his physical education grade from plummeting. He was light and quick on his feet, which allowed him to get where he needed to be fast.
