By My Side

Welcome to my Life

My name is Leo Benidict. I'm a high school student. I take honors classes, get decent grades I'm popular... kinda. I'm nice to people, but that doesn't mean my life is great.

High school, heh, isn't this where awsome romances happen? Where people find themselves? Cause in my case, if become more and more unsure about myself, and my luck with girls...

Bwahahaha! Ah well, I guess it doesn't matter. Things just don't pan out for me. Guess I'll just keeping doing my thing. I mean, I don't even care about getting laid. I just want someone to talk to, someone by my side. Someone I can talk to about my problems. Ah, well, I guess I should just get to class. No point in worrying about it.

As I walk past the endless rows of red lockers that line the white stone walls, my feet echo on the brown tiled floor. Voices speak throughout the halls, speaking of things that aren't my business. Even if it was, I doubt it would be good news.

"Hey dude!" By buddy Joey greets, wearing his signature brown shirt, blues jeans, and tennis shoes. His green eyes flicker with curiosity and his short brown hair is brushed to the side, showing his entire face.

"Hey man," I reply with a fake kindness, putting back on my mask as a happy, positive guy who's there to encourage you. Well, two of those are true at least.

"When you writing another story?" Joey asks, "those of us back in first period wanna see one."

"Soon," I lie, knowing I'm already in a writing rut.

"Thanks man," he smiles, "see you later." He heads into his own class. I keep walking, thinking about my life.

How did it become like this? Why did it become like this? How did I allow this? I know I went wrong, but I don't know where. How about we look back, and see if we can't find out.

I moved here a few years ago, back in middle school, and at first, I had nobody, only my pen and myself. I didn't know what else to do, so I did what I always did.

I wrote stories. I wrote so many. Page after page, book after book. Then, my first real crush asked to read one. Having a crush on her at the time, I complied. She liked it, so others followed. Soon everyone knew Leo as, "the writing guy."

At first, it was alright. I mean, that is basically who I am, but soon, that was all they wanted. They didn't like Leo, they only liked his stories.

I wasn't a person anymore, just a writer. Nothing more than a stack of papers to enjoy and then toss aside. Then again, maybe I'm just over thinking it, but it feels like that sometimes.

Even if I am wrong about that, it doesn't change my other writing related problem. Ever since I was young, I loved writing. Whenever I didn't feel good, angry, sad, or otherwise negative, I'd write, and the feeling would just dissapear.

When I got into high school though, the rising insecurities from within began to build. I began to write more and more. Until I was always writing. It wouldn't be a problem, if it wasn't the only way I can cope with anything. Nothing else works for me. I've tried. If I don't feel good, and can't write, that's when... it begins.

First, I'll find my heart rate accelerating, and I'll begin to grow nervous. Following that, my hands begin to twitch, desperate to hold a pen or tap a keyboard. Afterwards, I'll begin to tap my feet, a growing unease looming over me as whatever initially caused it builds up. This continues until I get a chance to write, or die of stroke. So far, so good there at least. Most it's ever lasted was about three hours. Happened when my father grounded me from writing for a day. He didn't even have a reason to do so. I had done nothing wrong. After standing there in utter bewilderment and pure hatred for a while, I looked a way to write anyways. Of course, I found one, and got away with it too, but not before reminding myself my view on family.

Family is a joke. Blood is thinner that air. You can only rely on those who stand beside you cause they want to.

Now, in all of this, you may be wondering, "what about your first crush?"

Didn't work out. Few weeks later, developed a soft spot for another girl.

Nope. And so on. I ended up friend zoned by most of them, but at that point I'm just like, "well, I tried. Ah well, I'd rather have friends than nobody."

I just move on and respect it, yknow? Eventually, it just goes away after I accept fully that the relationships isn't happening. I dunno what I'm doing wrong. Sometimes I think it's my weight, but I'm already so skinny my ribs are visable. If I was any skinner, it'd be a medical condition. Maybe I'm just ugly. Would explain why, even when I'm trying, my family thinks I'm not. Guess I'm just ugly, huh?

Ah well, that's my life. However, I can deal with all that. As long as I can write. It's how I cope. If I couldn't write...

I don't even wanna imagine such a world. I sit at my desk in my third class just before the bell rings, and the teacher begins to speak...