anobrain // narry au

it

tWO K READS GUYS? aw. aw. aw y'all the best. thanks for all of your comments and reads and follows and shares and likes and the readers that don't make any sudden movements so idk who you are. i'm still so appreciative. ilysm man.

& my rambles are annoying but i can't help it. i hate talking to physical humans surrounding my life daily. i love talking to you all even if ya don't respond haha.

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chapter twenty-six. more talks of the future.

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LOUIS, DYLAN, AND I sit at a table near the window at Punk Rock sharing a plate of chocolate cake. Because that's what friends do when they cannot afford their own slice -- with warm milk for our lunch break. It's an early Saturday and there's hardly any customers there, so we take a longer break whilst speaking of the one thing that I get anxious about most: universities.

So far, into the conversation, it doesn't suit Dylan in the slightest. Some people don't like what's after secondary like college and university, and that person is Dylan. "I like working here, at Punk Rock," he says. "Maybe I'll go to uni next year." Everyone's different.

Louis's eyes sparkle like there isn't a tomorrow when he speaks of the future and school. It's like he's in this fantasy world. "I have high hopes for this school in France I applied for, and the one in America, too," he speaks. "I just want to work in the fashion world."

Then there's me, completely unsure. It only sparks me as lost in this world of adults because I seem to not have it figured all out. And so far, as we move more towards the winter soon, I've only sent in two university applications. For a school in Manchester and the other in Croydon, located south of London.

But Louis has sent in five to the Americas, in New York City precisely. And he's been buzzing about it. The distance and the recreation of just starting over, meeting new people, this burst of euphoria you get when everything is going right. At your own accord, and, maybe, I need that much distance. Maybe I should relocate to Australia or the tip of North America, in, like, Canada.

I LAY ON THE couch after work, later that day researching universities as Nirvana's Hairspray Queen plays throughout my homes lounge. The thought of universities and the future uprising can be overwhelming, but since it is only December I have a little more time to be prepared.

I like the feeling of preparedness, though. Just always on top of things, and looking at schools gives me an idea on what I'd like to do years and years and years from now. Some schools online catch my eye, so I send enquiry forms for more information — a feeling of accomplishment breaks through me. I heave a sigh of relief from tackling my incapabilities.

Some, being, studying in my home of Ireland. Possibly locating distanced family members that chose to reside there. Get to know my roots, become familiar with them. It'll be like starting over in a more positive atmosphere. Away from Liam. Away from Harry. Away from Zayn.

Maybe I can take up photography or modelling. But then I remember I'm not Louis. Those talents — most talents are either acquired at a young age, or just hereditary, inherited. And neither anything affiliated in the modelling industry makes me passionate. Nothing, in general, gives me a warm feeling.

Except Harry Styles.

And sciences — but intellectualism is more of Zayn's forte. Always quick to finish homework or stay after-school, if he's free, for the fun of it.  How trigonometry answers come to him easily and Zayn has always been brilliant. Since we were in primary. He always received perfect scores on vocabulary tests and received golden stars while everyone got the silvers and bronzes.

He still continues to be a platinum student, despite the un-inherited traits he's yet to receive regarding reality. But I'm no better.

Then the athleticism belongs to Harry, no matter how clumsy he's always been. Since we were kids he'd play everything other than footie. Frequently stay in mine, Zayn, or his own second yard kicking balls and jogging around. I could never obtain that quality and ability for bursaries and scholarships for university.

I can never run or jump. Or play with cameras whilst editing captured films. I'm not compatible with maths. Nor can I sing, act, or dance professionally. Maybe I'm not meant to further my education, to be successful, and happy. Maybe I shouldn't, couldn't attend a university.

Like the planets revolve around the sun, the day comes to an automatic end before my eyes. I doze off on one the couches in the lounge as I habitually do with the knowing feeling of unpreparedness sizzling into my bloodstream like fire, as every unintentional night.

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This chapter really sucks and I'm sorry. It's short and worded badly and I continue to apologise for this.

+ I have a horrible cold atm. my nose is running and my throat is sore. I hate colds because I never have control of my own body.

Guess you can say ... I have no control. ** hits drum symbol ** badum tss.