riley is a broken kid.
one of those kids who lurk in the back of classrooms, head down, ears shut. he's one of those 'bad' kids. The kids that don't do their work, the kids that go home to less than linear, go home too empty or too full.
he knows this, knows that he will never be considered an upstanding member of the community, at least by his hometown. the thing is, his hometown is a bunch of washed out leftovers who look down on those less fortunate. they chew him up and spit him out, without even tasting. it's routine.
--
he's quiet, and that means different.
he learns that different can be viewed as bad, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything does it? anyone can view everything as anything. it's confusing. people are confusing. he learns this when he's thirteen.
he's climbed onto his roof, a half empty bottle of expensive wine in one hand, sadness in the other. it's the first of many times he'll makeshift stargaze. it's a hobby, brought on by lack of social life and interest in feeling small.
(the extent of his social life is his dog, blitzen. He's a mutt, and possibly the best part of riley's life. and then there's logan. they meet up and trade pokemon cards sometimes)
he's just a wasted kid with wasted opportunities. he looks at the sky, raises his arm to reach towards it, and wonders if someone is going through the exact same thing in a different galaxy. three hours later, he falls off and breaks his arm. the paramedic laughs a little, calls him something else. his tone suggests endearment, but there's a bit of negative in there too.
something else.
something out of the norm.
it's not bad, just unexpected, he thinks.
--
instead of homework, riley writes songs. writes them on every free space of something he gets. his arms, his schoolwork, scraps of paper. he saves them all, and at the end of the day he collects them all up, and saves the lines he likes the most. he burns the rest.
--
"can anyone describe how aysel was feeling? what had led her up to this point?"
it's class discussion time, on a book riley feels more connected to than he should. it's sad, though uplifting. he wonders how the teacher got permission to read it in class.
there's a stray arm up, a girl with bright blue hair and scars.
"yes, jen?"
"i think," jen starts. "i think she was feeling a 'prolonged sadness'." and then, a laugh.
"that's a good start, jen. thank you for your input."
--
prolonged sadness.
it's something he identifies with more than he should.
--
he's fourteen, and prolonged sadness feels vindictive. it feels like life is seeking revenge for all the 'I told u so's' it's lonely and sad. he doesn't know what's wrong with him, and every time his mom is home, he doesn't mention it. there's a lot of things he doesn't mention and never will. there is a graveyard on half spoken, biten down words on the tip of his tongue. he does not acknowledge them, didn't grant a funeral for his feelings. he lets them rot.
--
riley's burning lyrics again, ink and paper twisting and popping in the fire. it's comforting, he thinks. the smell of fire, the heat of it.
