Castiel Fallow and the Rise of Subconsciousness

One - Mad World

"Castiel Fallow! That's the last time I should have to call your name! You're going to miss the bus!"

This is the first thing I hear as I'm pulling from the shadowy depths of my slumber. I despise mornings. I'm taken from a world of peace and thrown into one of strife, and everything I enjoy - peace, darkness, familiarity - is taken and replaced with things I despise - noise, drama, the American public school system, the town of Wilson, Nebraska, and my mother's shrill voice.

I find the world around me to be unfamiliar. I've been alive for 17 years and I still feel like everywhere I go is somewhere new no matter how many times I've been there, and everyone I meet is a stranger no matter how many times I meet them.

The whole town thinks I'm weird, and I've given up with trying to blend in. My mother has given up on trying to force me to blend in. It doesn't really matter. The world still turns with me in it, no matter how I style my hair or how many odd colors I throw into my outfits. They all look the same to me- different shades of grey. When I really focus, I can see green, sort of. I was diagnosed with total colorblindness when I was in kindergarten.

I sit up from bed. My alarm is still ringing, I slept through it again. Although I can never remember my dreams, I feel as if they cling onto me, as if they somehow don't want me to wake up.

I do the thing that I dread the most in the morning - pick out my clothes. I have it down to kind of a science, I did an experiment during my freshman year when my mom finally let me pick out my own clothes. I wore whatever I laid my hands on first, and whatever gave me the least amount of judgemental stares, I figured looked less ridiculous. I took a striped cardigan- red and black, apparently, and paired it with a black Ghos⸸ shirt, black jeans and some doc martens. I wear a lot of black. Not because I'm depressed or rebelling against society or anything, it's just that.. black matches really well with black.

I drag my brush through my ratty hair and put it into two neat braids, tying them with whatever ribbon I can find, not caring about the color.

I go down the stairs with my headphones in and blast Mad World by Tears for Fears and head to my bus stop. This is going to be another long day.