Inside My Telescope I See

Chapter 1- Walker's Realization

I wasn't really feeling like myself that morning. I stumbled out of bed drowsily at 5 a.m. after shutting up my incessant alarm and went into the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal (I always eat before I brush my teeth. I think it's stupid to brush first because then, once you brush your teeth, you just turn around and ruin your good brushing job by eating). I finished my pathetic excuse for a breakfast and then went back to my room and stood in front of my closet to pick out clothes for the day. Once I had made my selection, I laid out the clothing on my bed and went to shower, brush my teeth, and wash my face, just like I did every morning. I had a very distinct routine for the week days. On the weekends I usually stayed in bed until noon (not even necessarily sleeping, just thinking or reading or playing on my phone) and only got dressed for very special occasions. You had to be either dying or my favorite person in the universe to get me to get dressed on the weekends. Unfortunately, my mother was my favorite person in the universe (Go ahead. Say it. "Awwwwwww"), and she made me get dressed and go grocery shopping with her every Sunday.

I've told you all of this information about my lifestyle, but you still have no idea who I am. I guess that could be kind of fun, remaining completely anonymous. I could pretend to be a serial killer or the president or something cool like that. But it would also kind of defeat the point of this story, which is completely about my true identity. It's kind of a cliche, saying things like "true identity" and whatnot. But it gets better, I assure you.

Anyway, my name is Walker Robbie. I am 15 (the perfect cliche book character age). My favorite color is green. I don't have many friends, but I don't need many, so it's okay (don't get me wrong, I do have a few, just not as many as the other kids). I think that's all the information about me you need. Back to the story.

When I got out of the shower, the mirror was completely fogged up. It was really humid in that small little bathroom. I dried myself off as best I could and wrapped my towel around my waste. I walked back into my room and got dressed. I wore a denim button-up shirt and rolled up the sleeves, like the hipsters do. What can I say? I like that sort of style. I put on a black pair of pants and bright blue Converse. 

I looked in the mirror and fixed my hair. I made sure it had that perfect swish. Then I stood back and admired my outfit. I looked like me. I was calm and confident with an air of sophistication. I felt good and as a result, I looked good. I had a purpose. I knew what I wanted to do in life. But there was something else I noticed when I was admiring my stylish look; a thought fluttered through the back of mind. I thought "Why do I feel good? What's the point here? Yes I have the supposed 'purpose' that I use to get me through  everyday life, but what about the real purpose? The reason for being alive?"

All I did, all any human being did, really, was walk around and pretend we had something important to do or somewhere important to be, but really there wasn't any real reason for doing any of that stuff. There was no reason for us to be here. No reason for me to be here.

I cursed myself for ruining my good mood and tried to push the thought away as I continued my day, but the hopeless feeling followed me around all day. 

~~~

It was a windy fall morning, the leaves blew past my feet and I had school. Ugh, school. It was dull and a waste of time considering what we were currently learning. Math was useless (as usual), science was just covering the same things we had learned last year. And the year before. And the year before that. All the other classes were the same way. Except for English, but English was completely made up of dramatic misinterpretations of whatever book we were covering at the moment.

The good thing about school, though, was that I got to see my best friends Atticus and Florian. They seemed to be the only people in the world who understood me. Plus they were great to hang out with. 

"Hey, Walker. What's new in your life?" Atticus asked as he strode down the hall towards me with Florian at his side.

"Oh, not much. I bleed black, but that's not news, is it?" I replied jokingly. Florian laughed. Our little group thrived on dark humor and witty comments. Sometimes we got looked at by people passing us in the halls like we were crazy, and sometimes I believed we were.

Whatever it was, crazy or otherwise, Florian, Atticus, and I had a great thing going. We got along well and I liked to think the friendship was spread evenly, so no one felt left out for too long. We hung out after school and made fun of the regular people together. We ate lunch together and had a few classes together. They truly were my best friends.

Anyway, I got through the school day without having a mental breakdown, so the day was a success. 

When I got home, I said hello to my beloved mother and went into my room to settle down in preparation for homework. I took off my shoes and flopped down on my bed. Then I stood up again and stared into the mirror. I don't know why I had to stand up for that. It just felt more dramatic. I studied the lines of my face and the colors in my eyes and lips. Then I started to think. 

I carefully invited the pressing, bugging thought in the back of my mind to come to my full attention. I thought about purpose. I thought about the end and what I was doing all of this stuff, the stuff of life, for. I thought about how it all would turn out in the end. I thought about all the time I was wasting doing pointless things. But, I thought, those things aren't pointless to me. I want to help people and how could that ever possibly be pointless? 

But what was helping people going to do for anything? If we were all going to die anyway then why try to save people? If there was no point to human beings existing, then what was the point of being a human being? 

I felt like I didn't belong. I felt like I didn't need to be here on this planet. Or on any planet, really.