A Perfectly Pointless Story, Of a Perfectly Pointless Life

Who Is She?

Every person I have ever met wants a happy ever after, or a  perfect ending. They want everything to make sense in the end, but they don't  know themselves or what this sense is. They want to sugar coat everything, and make the things that are hard in life just a little bit less hard. But I'm here to say, that's  just not how life ends up going. And I know what you're thinking, " This better not be some emotional love story that starts off with someones pathetic life and then branches off into something amazing." Or your thinking “this Better not be just another fault in our stars were you learn some big life lesson after going through some big challenge.”  And it’s not, it’s just a book written to make you feel what life is really like. To make you feel the real challenges that life can push onto you.

I walked to halls with a sudden urge to just hide in the corner. This was my sophomore year, and i was still unnoticed. Just another outcast like the rest of these people. I mean lets face it the only people who matter are the ones who don't have people asking what there name is. If you are on the football team, or basketball team you are someone that everyone wants see. And if you're a cheerleader, then everyone wants to be your friend. If you're a loser then you aren’t spoken to by anyone but the social outcasts. But if you’re like me, you have no one to talk to. Im what people at my school call a “social floater”. I basically don’t have one defined group of friends. I am so unbelievably different that I could in any group, but not purely fit in. I truly have had this problem since kindergarden. I remember when I first time realized I didn’t fit in. I was five years old, but it feels like yesterday. I was at recess and a girl was leaning in for a kiss. And i know how this sounds, like i was completely popular, and I was in kindergarten. But kissing was a bit too much. But it never happened because i told her i was in love with some actress. That’s when the other movie obsessed kids took me in. But I soon didn’t fit there either.

Now I Know you're probably wondering who “I” am. I’m a wallflower, a nobody, a misfit toy in santa’s sack. I’m Noah Grayson Lee. and this, this is my story.

I had been attending the same schools since i was in preschool. the same old messed up town. Merryweather. I never belonged in Merryweather, I never belong anywhere though. I had the figure of a size 0 girl, minus the lumps of fat that normal guys find attractive. I have the mental capacity of google, but the attention span of a two year old. And I’m just trying to find where I belong.

I paced myself as I walked to fifth period Writing. I had a passion for writing, and I’m not too shabby at it either. My mom says I’m so good at writing because I have such an avid imagination, but I think it’s because I yearn so much to be someone else, to live a different life. I have suck a powerful disire to be anyone but myself. And I know how suicidal that sounds socially, but it’s how I feel.

At the current moment I was becoming close to the rich kids. They don’t seem rich, but they are. I don’t understand why they want me in there “friends group” so much though. I beleive the only reason is because of my sense of “fashion”. But they are cool, being that there are two other guys. Marcus, and Dane. They are both severely hipster, and they have no filter to their words. They both are easy to talk to, but when I want to say something it always feels like I’m saying something wrong.  I guess it’s just the fact that every since my life turned into a complete war of good and bad moments, I just don’t trust my instincts. Which gives me a terrible feeling in my throut, because every normal human has instincts, so I guess I am just not normal.

As I stepped into Mr. Harrendale’s class. Everyone had taken all the seats in the back of the room. They always scrounge up enough energy to run to the back, because Mr. Harrendale had terrible eye sight and they could get away with whatever they wanted. One time a guy sat back there smoking pot and Mr. H never noticed. Oh and another thing, this class is referred to as Makeout 101 for most kids. Thats when I noticed one of the prettiest girls ever walk through the door. She had brown hair that cascaded down to mid back in a pin straight motion, with bangs that were slightly brushed in her eyes. She flicked them out of her gaze’s way, revealing her bright blue eyes, that twinkled like diamonds in a midnight sky.

“Is this seat taken? Um, Hello is this seat taken,” she asked me in a tone of pure attitude.

“Oh no, sorry. Are you new?” My voice shakeing as I talked to her.

“No, I have gone to this school since kindergarten.”

“Oh, I have never seen you before, sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I know what it feels like to be forgotten.”

And with that she turned her head and quickly began writing furiously on a small piece of paper, as she finished her doings, she turned back around and gave me the scap. Scribbled onto it in a handwriting so swirling and curved, was a phone number.

“Alright class let’s get things started. Take out your textbooks, and go to page 406.”

I quickly snapped my head to my pile of books, remembering that since I was in the front I couldn’t get away with staring at this mystery girl creepily. I really needed to find out her name. I spent the whole period thinking about what her name could be. She looked like a Violate, or maybe a Vanessa. She just gave off this V name vibe. Marcus must have noticed me staring, because after the period he asked me if I was “digging on her”. Not knowing what that means I responded with a shrug, then stuttering out a “no”.

“Do you know what her name is?” I had to build up the courage to ask him this simple question, yet it only came out yet another jumbled stutter.

“Abigail, I think.”

“Thanks, hey I will see you later, I need to do something”

And with that I set off on another adventure, leaving Marcus in the hallway. And my brain to wander endlessly.