Not long ago I felt compelled to write a story. I was just walking in circles around our kitchen and as I progressed my pace increased as my head filled with the kind of ideas that I would like to express.
One of my favourite writers is Haruki Murakami and he's said that when writing a story he doesn't have a clear idea of how the whole story will unfold, he just lets it take its own course and as long as he's enjoying what he's doing, he'll just keep writing, and see what happens.
I haven't really planned the story out, there's just some general ideas, but still, as for a beginning, middle, and an end, I'm not sure. I'll just see where the journey carries me.
Well, maybe at first it won't seem like much of an Animorphs Fan-Fic. lol
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1
I always had a problem adapting and fitting into the school environment. First of all, at my first school at primary level, I had problems making friends, often feeling like an outsider. Sometimes I'd find some other kid to tag along with, often another type who is very quiet, cast aside by the crowd.
In all those years there was only one other who I maintained close contact with for years and to whom I considered a friend. In stark contrast he was boisterous, he had a lot of fire. We traded the books that were most popular at the time, we went to each others houses to play video games. Once he even went with us on vacation to our regular countryside retreat. We were pretty close.
Something rather foolish happened. The house we were living at, we were planning on moving to a new residence that would be situated closer to the school, and we did. But soon after we moved, I changed schools - and this one was located close to where our first house once bore us! D'oh. It's not all bad, though. I liked our new house and I preferred the second primary over the first.
Although I mentioned my old friend from the last school, I still preferred this place as I made more friends here and there are some fond memories, for one the camaraderie we shared playing various games throughout lunch. I suppose because I was older but some moments stand out in my mind clear as day: my friend Adam, like from a buddy movie, his arm around my shoulder, just after finishing with this game where four people stand in their own square and you've got to bounce the ball past them; school is out, I open the door, and my mother is waiting for me with a new bicycle. I'm so excited, I start running and trip over a step, grazing my knee on the asphalt. I walked all the way home in pain.
Despite that the second school was better for me, it wasn't some ideal place. Well, in retrospect, I shouldn't be looking to cast the blame on the school and anyone around me; I had many weaknesses, I let myself down. For one, and this is a good illustration. Once on my report card I was told that my attendance was improved - by my standards. In that term I had missed nine days of school. I can remember multiple occasions where I would miss a full week of school. So many times I handed in bull**** notes explaining to the teacher that I had a cold. Really, when the day came around, what was my honest feeling? Couldn't be bothered? Some fear, apprehension? It's pathetic, but when I went to school for "so-and-so" many days together - developed a streak - I felt broader. What an accomplishment!
I spent only two years at that second school. Despite my attendance records I suppose my work was good enough to sustain me as I passed and moved on to high school.
High school didn't go well, and again, in retrospect, I was weak again. There were no bullies pounding on me, but I never adapted to my surroundings, never adapted to being a high school student. There were many changes I had to get used to: before you were at the top of the tree in primary, now you're at the bottom in secondary. I wasn't used to storing my books and stuff in a locker, or even wearing a tie and a belt, the school uniform, everyday. Many of the friends I'd picked up at my last school had opted to transfer to a different high school to mine. The close friend I mentioned from the first school did make it, though our contact felt distant, the only memory I recall is having our heads buried in MAD Magazines in the school library.
At some point I just stopped going. One day, then another, and finally I was gone. I swear the final count was twenty-three missed days of schooling. Often when I think about the course of my life and the decisions I've made, what I would have done instead - the 'one thing' would be to be a stronger person and remain there and go through so many of the ups and downs, the experience that high school provides. But of course, I left shortly into my first year, and I was at home.
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At home I fell into a spiral of decay, both mentally and physically. I enrolled in distance education but neglected my studies; when teachers would call to talk to me I would frantically run away from the phone, pathetically crying to my mother, "I'm not here!" She got the message. Living inside the house all day, there were periods where I wouldn't shower and wash my hair for a month. I was filthy and so depressed and thought so little of myself. Another common aspect of this existence was night-owl living, staying up all night and sleeping throughout the day.
I vividly recall, once, receiving a call from a teacher. She spoke the truth to me, it was very plain, but as I've said, I'm weak, and I couldn't handle it. She was right, of course. These were my high school years and they're so vital for my future, I can't be slacking so much with regards to the work. But whenever I'm hit by the truth, I'm paralyzed and reduced to a blubbering mess.
All those years of social isolation, they shaped and created and worsened many of my problems, I guess. I found it difficult to leave the house, which stands in contrast to my youth, as, even though it wasn't the easiest for me to develop friendships, I had many memories of playground excursions and holidays to beach side coasts and the countryside. Now merely standing around other people provoked intense anxiety as I was sure their conversation was targeted toward me in a negative light.
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The distance education that I had applied with managed to pass me a few years though I didn't deserve it considering the scarcity of work I submitted to them. Aside that, on a few years they made me repeat until the tenth year of my education when the ball dropped and I was dropped, kicked out, whatever way you want to put it, it was long coming and fully deserved. I got the chop.
So, what for the future? I had failed high school. I considered various options. My father ran his own gardening business and mowed people's lawns, I thought about picking that up, but on reflection I realized that type of work didn't suit me.
I forget how old I was at the time, but it was during this general period that I'm describing now. I had an appointment to see a man, I think he was a psychologist, and I was telling him about my problems. At the end of the appointment he said I had agoraphobia, hence why I've been socially isolated all these years.
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Living this way, even though it's not a healthy lifestyle, it's difficult to break from routine, difficult to get out of the rut, you've maintained it and it's ingrained itself upon your self for years. To break it you have to be strong, in my case, show strength that diverges from my usual side of weakness. I had to break free and escape the house.
One morning the postman made a delivery that presented me with an opportunity. He made a delivery that gave me something I'd been sorely lacking in: motivation. It was a newsletter promoting a local group called The Sharing. The letter said the meeting place would be ideal so far as making friends, amongst other things. It went on to promote the positive, 'family friendly' atmosphere. There would be a meet-up down at the beach, not far from where I lived. Now I just needed to show enough courage to attend.
