Just Another Brushstroke

Chapter 1

The city made me nervous.

Well if we are being specific then Chicago makes me nervous. I don't like the noise, or the people. I don't like the tall skyscrapers or living in an apartment building because I'm afraid of heights.

I don't like the terrible traffic or the huge billboards advertising women in underwear. I don't like how cold it can get here or how hot it can get here. I just don't like it. My parents didn't seem to care about my opinion when they made the decision six months ago to move here.

I guess that's fair because I didn't care about there opinion when I deferred from college for a year. In 10 months I would have to decide where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. It sounds simple but I'm not sure. The only thing I know for a fact is that I have this obsession with poetry.

That's all you really need to know about me. Well there are a couple more important things but I'm not ready to get into that yet. Anyway back to the reason I hate the city. I could list a hundred more things just staring out the large window in our living room.

"Jeremy, are you going to go to work?" My mom asked me and she put a hand on my shoulder. I nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I'm just dreading the drive there," I said.

She patted my back and then walked back to the kitchen. Having parents that are lawyers is difficult for more then one reason. First you can't get away with anything. Two they are on schedule all the time. Three they have a logical reason to everything you do and everything they don't want you to do.

I picked up my backpack and left my apartment building in Edgewater. I walked down to the curb as groups of people walked around me, I kept getting bumped into. The only place worse that I can think of is New York.

As I waited on the curb a Taxi almost ran into a cars bumper. The car let out one long BEEEEEP! My hands flew over my ears and I crouched down into a fetal position on the sidewalk. People stopped to stair at me and some laughed.

"Loser"

I heard one stranger mutter as they walked past me. I felt myself beginning to cry and I immediately wanted to run back up into my apartment. I persevered and got into the next Taxi that I waved over.

Let's just say, I hate loud noises in more ways then just one.

"How are you?" The Taxi driver asked me and I felt disdain creep into my mood.

"Fine"

Another thing I hated.

Small talk.

As the driver kept trying to strike up a conversation with me, I just ignored him until he shut up. Eventually he did and I laid my head on the window watching the buildings fly by.

"I hate the city," I muttered to myself.

"Why?" He asked me. I didn't realize how loud I said that.

"Everything about it makes me nervous," I said.

"Anxiety is a bitch."

"Yeah it is," I answered.

Barnes and Noble.

My favorite thing on the entire planet. Once the Taxi pulled up, I jumped out and ran to the door. I grew this love for books when I was a kid, a small kid. Books seemed to help me through the toughest times in my life, books were my only friends at some parts of my pathetic life.

"Heyyyyyyyyyy," I heard someone say behind me.

Adam Anderson. Possibly the most American name in the human race. He was the only friend I had made here for this entire six months, but I was fine with that.