Outside My Box

Chapter 1

It's said that you start your road to self discovery when you're a teenager. Around 13 or 14. Yeah, that's total bullshit. I'm 15 now and I have no idea what I'm doing. My mother always told me that I could be whatever I wanted when I grew up, but I think what I want to be will be too much for her to handle. It's not that my mother doesn't love me or that she's unsupportive of my decisions. She's always done what she could to keep me and my brother happy, and a lot of the time she knew exactly what we needed. But recently, though, I haven't been happy. But I haven't been sad either? I guess it's an extra odd kind of confusion where you don't know what you're confused about, you don't know what your mind is pondering but you know that something doesn't feel right.

July 19, 2006. A baby boy was born. His parents named him Forest, and he really liked that name. Because of his name he developed a love for the outdoors and the wildlife. He loved being outside. Not the type of outdoorsy person to go hiking or any of that junk. He just thought it was pretty, and he liked being in it. A lot of his favorite colors were earthy tones like browns and greens, and he dressed accordingly. He wore a lot of oversized cardigans and turtlenecks underneath, with slim fit black jeans and Converse shoes that had been tremendously beaten up from skateboarding in places he wasn't supposed to. Like near the edge of the woods next to the old pharmacy that closed down the year he was born. He would skate at normal places, too. Like the high school parking lot after everyone had gone home, or his driveway when his mother was at work or running errands or whatever his mother does when she's not home. That baby boy was me. My name is Forest Jackson. And I have no idea what the fuck is going on,or what I'm doing.

I have to get up for school at 6:45, 'cause the bus comes at 7:15 and gets to school at 7:45, and then classes start at 8. Honestly I think that's stupid. Maybe it's just me but seems a little excessive to wake teenagers up before the sun, barely give them time to process the fact that they're awake, have them leave the house while it's barely light out, get to class while the world is still asleep and then work for 8 hours with only a 40 minute break where they're expected to eat, drink and go to bathroom and then sit through the rest of the day without doing any of that again. I could just do homeschool but my mom wanted me to try to socialize and make at least one friend before doing that. It seems like that isn't going to happen, though. High school isn't the easiest place to make friends, especially not if you're the weird kid. Word spreads quickly and if someone wants everyone to think you're something you're actually not then they'll make sure everybody thinks it's true in two days time maximum. I don't gossip about things like who's dating who or what celebrity said what about another. I gossip more about the new video games that are going to be released or what's in all the Monster Energy I consume because I am tremendously unhealthy. My mother tells me to try to eat and drink things that are more healthy for me but whether or not I decide to listen to her doesn't really matter. The world is going to end no matter what I decide to put into my body so I might as well just do what I want while I can. So I drink crappy drinks and eat a hell of a lot of candy and play video games instead of doing my homework and do dangerous skate tricks and watch the shows that my mom tells me not to and i say the things that I mean, and I've been trying to figure myself out but that hasn't been going very well.

Saturday, 10 A.M. I'm laying in bed, thinking. My mom is downstairs making breakfast, I can smell it. But I'm not sure exactly what I'm smelling. She's on the phone with whoever she talks to, and I hear my name. "Forest? Oh yeah, she's good," Hmm.. I could be doing better but I guess I'm not terrible. I wouldn't describe it as good, exactly, but I'm not bad, I guess. One word keeps floating around my brain; She. That wasn't right, but my mom doesn't know. My mom doesn't know I'm not a girl and I don't plan on telling her. It's not like my mom isn't supportive of me, I just feel like that's way too much for her. It's not like it's a problem, everyone at school knows I'm not a girl, they've never seen me as one. Not because I ever had to come out, I guess I just don't look like a girl. But I don't look like a boy either. And I'm not one. But I'm not a girl either. I'm neither, but I'm also both. It's complicated. I'm not a she/her. But I'm okay with being a he/him, but he/him isn't my favorite. I really like they/them, though. But he/him is also okay. Just not she/her, that's not right. "Forest! Breakfast!" My mom calls from downstairs. I get up and walk downstairs. There's blueberry pancakes stacked to the ceiling and whipped cream and maple syrup and a big bowl of different fruits sitting on the table. My mom is getting glasses from the cabinet and juice from the fridge and silverware from the drawer and carrying them all at once to the table. I sit down and start serving myself breakfast quietly, still thinking. "So," my mom begins, "I got an email from your homeroom teacher yesterday afternoon." I wasn't worried. I don't get in trouble much and if I did get in trouble then it wouldn't be in homeroom. "Oh yeah? What did she say?" I asked, trying to sound interested. "You're getting a new student on Monday, and she wants you to show them around," she said, slightly looking at her phone, which I assumed she had the email opened on. "Why me? I'm not exactly the best person for that," I said, putting syrup on my 4 blueberry pancakes. "Maybe she wants you to make a friend," my mom inquired, turning off her phone and placing it face down on the table. I hum quietly with disinterest, I really don't think I need a friend. "What's their name?" I definitely don't sound interested now, but I'm not really worried about it, "Elijah Charlotte," my mom starts, "he's a year above you, he's from Texas. Your guidance counselor thought you two would be good friends. I look up at her in a way she knows means I'm pissed, "The guidance counselor also thinks that not making friends is a death sentence, she's not the smartest person out there," my tone obviously annoyed, my mom puts her phone down and tends to her plate full of food. The rest of the morning was silent.