Birds of A Feather--Nick A.

"The police are on their way, for now just stay calm and stay somewhere safe."

3 minutes. 3 minutes is the average time it takes for a police officer to get to his destination, 4 if he's taking his time. I've never realized up until now, with my face pressed up against the sliding closet door, how untidy I've been keeping this small private area. The clothes I put inside the closet are clean and ready to be worn at all times no doubt about that; I can't keep my personal appearance looking disheveled over a small crease in the cuff but this is a different matter altogether. There's a big possibility that no one besides myself will ever be in such a precarious position where their feet is skewed across the floor trying not to step on any scattered objects usually found on one's closet and I must let it be known that this must be the least  enjoyable moment of my life so far. Of all the houses that surround mine, of all the different lives they contain that either dwarf or far exceed my own who most likely even though there must be a slight chance they can relate to my current predicament, why must my life be bothered with the notion of my house being the one broken into? I guess I can put this under the random category that I must admit most events that transpire in my life fall under. Everything up until now has been seemingly by chance so why would this one be any different? Who knows what category of events the robber currently invading my home must of went through to end him, or her, because life is unisex, up in this unseemly profession; what did they do different compared to my own life that led them here? To me? Ok so key word that pops into my mind when the question arises of , "How do I think of myself?" Which is always the same, is average. I lived the entirety of my life as I can assume many others before me have done as well. Elementary I was considered gifted, I read books a little better then the other kids and what does that get you? A pat on the back, one more sticker on your binder, and if you're lucky, another plus on that "A" that by now you were accustomed to seeing. Middle school can only be labeled as the same thing but with a new coat of paint but that certain paint has a certain peculiar name, puberty. Its gross, it was unnatural, well not really but you get the point, and it was timed so perfectly as the time where you just start learning about what it means to be an actual person besides just a kid who blows morals and thought to the wind. I don’t want to talk about it, bad times. Now high school, high school changes it up on you. Now you're introduced to kids who, believe or not, are as a smart as you. It's a weird concept you know? Why did no one tell me I wasn't the center of the world? Don't get me started on the people who just so happened to be smarter then you, because rest assured you don’t want to be reminded of them either. So you're doing this whole school thing fairly alright you're not the top in the class but cmon there is like 30 people in this class what did you expect? You've already come to the conclusion you won't be the best at this whole scheme called life so why not just settle? You're grades are continuing to be a sort of oblique shadow of what they used to be but cmon its high school things are supposed to be harder. Well, they aren't really, you still get things fairly well but the ambition isn't there. You just kind of, lay there at your home, doing what would be considered to many as nothing? Why? If I knew I probably wouldn't of done it but I did and that’s how my life was and continues to be. To be keep waiting on that one day where suddenly I would get it and life started to work again rather then skip like your grandmother's old record player that would skip fairly often but you wouldn't try to fix due to the fear of somehow making it worse. Yet my life is, indeed, not a old record player I can fairly assume that but for some reason I never tried to fix it. It wasn't a good cycle in any case. Repetition, at least for me, started turning into a sort of preview of what my life was going to be. Life started to appear to me as a sort of check list that you had to complete and sadly finish every single day without fail. These weren't choices I was making out of enjoyment or passion but ones of indifference and boredom. Whoever designed this whole concept of mortality never had the thought that once you start this process you can never stop. Life never pauses and that didn't truly appeal to me and now, with my body displaced in my bedroom's closet listening to the burglar who most likely lived the same life as me yet chose to explore their options possibly with minute differences then my own get progressivly closer to my impromptu hiding place did I start to wonder if this cycle should continue. The door gives way to blinding light shined in my face.

Oh.

Well that’s disappointing.