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Enter a small geeky kid and a larger brutish kid. This is me. Not the brutish one but the geek. The larger kid is my life-long tormenter and one-time friend. It is unimportant how you imagine these two for they are me as I was, not as I am. But remember them. They are unimportant now but later you must know them to understand me.
Now enter a young man. He is unremarkable, nothing much to notice. Greyish blue eyes, dark blonde hair, and an average build, yes unremarkable indeed. He wears orange-tinted glasses with thick black rims that obscure his features and his expressions. A satchel, decorated with archaic symbols and words, is slung over his head hanging from the right shoulder on his left hip. He wears black, a shirt of any style as long as it be long-sleeved and a pair of black jeans. His ears are pierced five times in each ear, if you can get close enough to see them. This is me as I am now.
Perhaps you have noticed him. This is the kid you only noticed because he was pushed into you in the hallway. He sits as far from everyone else as possible and refuses to speak to anyone unless forced. He once heard himself labled as a 'loner' for he has no friends. my mentours believe I have done thison purpose. That perhaps I enjoy the title. But I assure you this is not the case.
Feign interest and follow me home. Today I walk. This young man soon approaches a small house with vines twisting and climbing their way up the front. Trees block the veiw of the house, leaving only the door and a window in the far right corner of the second floor visible. The young man digs through his satchel as he turns toward the door up the driveway. He produces a painted black key with red edges, a project from a rainy day the previous summer. He unlocks the door and the sound of the bolt sliding back is the que for a thundering sound emitting from inside to begin.
The young man steps inside quickly and closes the door to prevent the escape of the stampede of animals heading toward him. He smiles and bends his knees, sinking to a crouch. Arms open he greets the horde with a smile and they hit him with a force that knocks him over. He laughs and begins petting and cuddling the animals. He is sure to pay each individual creature is due attention. Even the rats that crawl into his lap in a small swarm.
One animal, a border collie sits patiently at the edge of the horde. She knows that if she waits she will be more favoured than the others. Her tail swishes across the wood floor and the young man smiles at her. She is his secret friend. He twists and crawls over to her wrapping both arms around her neck and muttering a greeting to her. Zoe, is her name. Zoe the saint, the life, the byzantine empress. Her eyes are soft as he pulls back and ruffles the fur at the top of her head playfully.
The young man stands and looks though into the second room of the house. His mother stands there. She is old, but does not appear so. She has soft brown hair and her stature is small. She is sewing now, as usual. It could be any number of things. A costume for his younger sister, a dress for the elder, blankets, curtains, anything she felt was needed. She wears jeans and a hot pink tank top, and why not? She still has the figure for it.
He begins to make his way to the stairs, a mere ten steps from the door. His mother turns at the sound of his uneven step knowing it is him. And for the first time you can tell that he has a limp in his right leg. Something he hides from others. She greets him warmly and tells him he has things to do. The young man waves her off. I do that sometimes, when its not worth the trouble. She works hard to make things easier for us after all. And later I'll complete the tasks, but not now.
Now the the young man labours up the stairs. His left hand using the banister to haul himself up slowly. Zoe follows behind, watching him but never passing him up. At the top of the stairs he stops and looks in on the birds. Their cage stands 5 feet tall and 3 feet wide in a small alcove at the top of the stairs. Finches of all kinds fly around and sing to each other. They have no babies today.
The young man bends and scratches Zoe's ears affectionatly as he turns to his left and limps into a small room. The shape of the room is odd, the door coming out from the wall slightly and making it more of a pentagon than a square. The walls are green and the carpet is new. Its dark green is a contrast from the flat brown in the hallway. The young man throws his satchel at the foot of the bed as he flops down into the mound of pillows on top of it. The pillowcases are of all colours and designs, salvaged from different sets of bed clothes. With a sigh the young man examines the ceiling, he needs to find room among the newspaper clippings, drawings, posters, windchimes, army men and the fan for another item. Something he found in his neighbor's trash the other day.
After a few minutes of his search he hears a click and the radio under his bedside table turns on to a song he's not too particualrly fond of. He frowns and reaches down to turn down the volume with a flick of his wrist.
Here I must take pause. You have entered my inner sanctum and I fear maybe I have exagerated too much. For now what you know is enough. Tomorrow will see the young man still on his bed looking for more space. Perhaps then you will begin to speak to him and thens oon after to hear his thoughts. But for now I will keep most of my secrets.