My name is Neil. I'm currently 18. My life is.. for lack better of words.. exhausting. I have always thought about what is going on around me. What it's like to be someone else. How people might see my actions. Who am I ? Why am I here ? Why the girl I'm in love with doesn't even like me the slightest ? Well I figured out some of those things about 3 years ago in my freshman year of highschool.
Highschool sucked for me. I had plenty of friends but I didn't want them so I pushed them away from me. I'm an introvert, which simply means, I like to go do my assigned tasks and get out of school as soon as possible. That's what I always thought I was supposed to do when I was in middle and elementary school so naturally I assumed the same for highschool. Oh my lord, was I wrong! However I'm getting ahead of myself. I need to explain a little more about my life during freshman year at least my family.
During most of highschool, I lived with my middle-aged father, step-mom of, now, 13 years , and 4 siblings. My oldest brother was Sean, 18 years old, he was the jocky senior everyone loved. Next in order of descending age was Josh, 17 years old, he was the party-guy. He would smoke weed every four hours. I knew that for a fact because over years of being around him I noticed the pattern. He even had an alarm to tell him to go smoke and a wheel of choices to tell him how to get high. I loved being the middle child. I took the blame for everything, and it blew. I was old enough to watch kids but not to not old enough to chill with my older highschool bros. The two below me. They were 11 year old boy twins and they were hell-raisers. Have you ever seen the breakfast club? Well the "rebel" character multiplied by infinity would be the same as those two rascals.
We lived in a moderate sized blue and red house in a small town called Stobon, Massachusetts. It was (and still is) a quite and quaint town. Nothing to do ever. There are no places to explore. Cops are always on top of someone for some reason, like breathing wrong. Overall it was a chill place, except the wannabe "country boys."
These "country boys" wore cowboy boots. They drove gas-guzzling trucks. Heck they even dipped while they tried to sing their favorite country-rap song. I was a hipster in the place I lived because I wore skinny jeans, liked folk music, and drank more Starbucks than the store had to offer. I was the strange child, but at least I wasn't one of the "country boys."
The best way to explain my appearance.. Umm.. Well, I was 5ft11 and weighed about 145-150 pounds. I wore a lot of bomber style jackets and Red Hot Chili Peppers shirts with skinny jeans and Toms brand shoes. I wore a beanie over my long, dyed black hair. I had gages in my ears and they were size 12s. I had/ have greenish blue eyes. I was never seen without a book or coffee. So you can see why I was called the hipster.
It was the first day of highschool. I walked up near the school, stopped, took a deep breathe and look at the school as the it gazed back at me with empty eyes. I entered the building with looming cloud over head and rolled back eyes.
