I am not a musician. I am not an athlete. I’m not a technician nor an artist either. What am I, you ask? Exactly. I am the epitome of nothing. The example of nobody. The heart of boring. The mind of pointless. A waste. Not living. Barely breathing.
I have acquaintances, not friends. I am the kid that everyone knows of, but no one knows. No one wants to know. No one needs to know. I have lived in the same town for my entire fifteen years of living. While others cared about alliances and friendships, I sat idly by and waited for kids to come to me. To ask me to be their friend.
I made a mistake of thinking that people were nice. That people weren’t blind to my suffering. I lived under the delusion that people would find me. People would ask me to be their friend. I guess it doesn't work that way. And I guess I’m so pathetic. At least I find some kids to sit with at lunch. Sit with. Not talk with.
When people don’t have a way to vent, to cycle through pain, they can do one of two things: Explode or Survive. I tried to Explode. I became a time bomb. No one knew whether or not I would show up for the next day of school. Granted, no one cared. I just didn’t want to hurt my parents. I decided to Survive.
A journal is the window to the soul. A writer writes to exploit his best friend: himself.
Thomas Hickory
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The Chronicles of Thomas Hickory
Teen FictionThomas Hickory is an average high school student dealing with lack of sleep, hard classes, crushes, and the hardships of Driver's Ed. Join him as he journalizes his life for the world to see.
