Thinking back on my life in elementary school, and even middle school, I was never a kind kid. I was never even a ‘’nice in front of adults, mean to my peers’’ kind of kid. In fact, I would always hear these ‘critiques’’ come out of others’ mouths. ‘’Don’t stare at the floor so much, you’ll hit your head,’’ ‘’Are you staring at the wall on purpose? Are you sad?’’

I’ll admit it myself, I remember not even one of the things they critiqued me about, or at the very least, I have no memory of doing them. I just remember the remarks. So maybe you’ll be just as surprised as I was when, one day, in class, I opened my eyes and I was staring at the white wall in front of me in class. Hmm, did I sleep through maths, I thought to myself.

My peers usually don’t pay attention to me, especially the ones that move in usual groups of three. Though, I do have friends; I’m not that kind of person, thankfully. But, recently, I’ve been feeling the same way as I did back in elementary and middle school, but here I am, a teen in my last year of high school, so different from back then that if I described myself to my friends, they’d think I’m talking about some weird relative.‌ Even then, I’ve been looking at my shoes, staring at the wall, staring at the toiled for a bit before peeing, etc.

I’ve wanted to understand why my heart doesn’t race fast when I play sports since that was another ‘’symptom’’. I’m sure you don’t really know what I’m even talking about, since, If I'm honest, I’m losing myself in thought again and– ‘’Ah!’’ I exclaim. Math class is over so suddenly. Did that mental paragraph really fill fifteen whole minutes? It felt like fifteen seconds, and I'm being generous!

Nevertheless, I remained on my desk. I saw my friend, my table neighbour, leave the room with his female friend. I’m wondering, Are they dating? Should I ask? Am I really curious? In the end, I didn’t move away from my desk, my hard, wooden, used by other people desk. Why does my desk feel so warm and special when other people use it every time I leave the room to go to another class? Why does it feel cold when anyone else sits here? All questions that don’t need an answer, probably won’t get one and are all questions that’d gather weird faces quickly. Weird. This table is weird. Really weird.

I look over to my pencil sharpener. It has a funny design, where it opens from the top like a little treasure chest, and when you close it, by applying a bit of force, it makes a little noise. just ‘’POP!’’ and it closes. I’ve sometimes gotten lectured for repeatedly opening and closing it, over and over. ‘’You’re disturbing your partner!’’ is what they said. I’ve had this thought too. How am I bothering him if he’s not speaking up about it? At all. Is he being polite? Or is he careful not to offend me, thinking I’m fragile and get sad over little things?

Once, I read somewhere, though I don’t remember where, about how ‘’Keeping little problems bottled up makes them evolve into a giant crisis.’’ It’s probably true, considering how many times he has snapped at me by now, for little things, like colouring my notebook with my pencil. He got annoyed by the sound. Weird thought.

Anyhow, back to that sharpener. I’ve wondered about this for a bit: If I make the same type of pencil eraser, just maybe ten times bigger, no, one hundred times bigger, would it be able to wake up an entire small village at 6 AM with the sound it makes when closed? It’s funny because I don’t know how I’d be able to press it to close it. With this size, I can easily do it two fingers. It’s really small! But if it’s about three times my size, for example, would I need to climb a house and jump on top of it, hoping it would close down? I’d love to try it.

See- Hmm. Hang on a second. My bottom doesn’t feel warm anymore, but I’m still staring at the white wall in the classroom. I open my eyes. It’s not the school classroom, surprisingly. I’m in my own room. The window’s open, the AC is running. Why though? And I’m on my bed. Why? Who left the AC running on an open window, it’s a total waste of money? When’d I get changed into my favourite black, thin shorts and a red T-shirt?

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Did you start to figure it out? Because I think I finally did…kind of. I was being lazy, I couldn’t be bothered to get up and turn off the AC or close the window. I couldn’t even get up to close the window so it actually has any use. My butt feels really cold, my arms and legs feel thin. Funny fact, or rather, a thing I noticed. When it’s really cold like right now, my body looks thinner. It just looks like I’ve lost a bit of weight. Do others experience this? I’m sure I’m not special in that regard. Or, uh, any regard for that matter. My life is simple, really simple. So simple that explaining it would be more boring than my thoughts right now. And no, this isn’t my attempt at self-depreciation, or me insulting the way I live or look. I like myself, I think, so sorry if some of you sighed in boredom.

Hey. Is this weird? The fact that I keep thinking about the things in my head, relevant or not, and not paying attention to the life I live?  Is it weird that these ideas keep flowing in? Does ‘’flowing in’’ sound weird? I’ve always been weird about words. I can’t think of the right word at the right time, and then I replace it with some other word.‌‌ Usually an inadequate word. Though I can’t think of an example, it happens often, and I keep forgetting the incidents.

Oh! I know. ‘’Write these down, please, your notebook is completely empty.’’ Oh, a teacher in front of my desk, and my butt is warm again. Anyway, I realised what‌ I am, what I feel and why I’m feeling it right no- ‘’Didn’t you hear me? Please write these down.’’ Ah, she’s upset.‌ What do I say? Is she angry? Where’s my pen?‌ I can’t find it. It’s not on my desk. Hmm. I don’t feel like talking to her. ‘’Oh, you’re quite insufferable with your lack of motivation, you know? One second.’’ The surprisingly young-looking teacher went over to her desk and put her hand inside a pen-holder, taking out a red-coloured one. I usually use a black-coloured pen, so writing in my notebook with red instead of the usual black will feel really OCD-inducing. She hands me the pen, but it feels weird to hold. Looks like the teacher has a habit of biting her pens.‌ Weird enough to be interesting.

Opening my notebook, there nothing. There’s not a single word in this notebook. But I do write with a black pen usually. Where did the ink of this apparently nonexistent pen go if the notebook is fully blank? It only took a moment, but I realised something: I feel really feel-less. What do I mean? Well, my body feels a little weak. I also feel like my hands are reacting one second after I’ve sent the command through my brain for them to move the bitten pen. But a second ago, I was okay. Am I getting sick? maybe because of the AC and the open window. But wait. Wait, wait, wait. I’m in class! What room am I talking about? What AC, what window? Was I ever in a room I call my own less than two minutes ago? I’m sad to say I don’t remember, or I didn’t care enough to remember.

Is there such a thing? A phenomenon where you become so apathetic about the world around you that you go through an entire day on the highest level of auto-pilot and not remember a single second of it, and then remember a few seconds of it, skip to the next day and repeat it? Ah, I found it. I’m happy, I’m enjoying myself, I’m not hating my environment, I’m bored, I’m lazy, I’m confused and I’m giving up. I’m apathetic.

I’m really sorry if this feels weird to hear, but I don’t remember what I wanted to convey since the very first thing I said. Weird, huh? I started with ‘’I wasn’t a nice person’’ and ended on, ‘’I acknowledge and nor do I care for the world around me.’’ Maybe the two statements are connected. I don’t know. Did my mother take my pen to write a report last knight and forget to give it back? Possibly. Will I make that giant pencil eraser? I want to. I think I want to, anyway. I’m a little sad. I forgot what I wanted to say. The most frustrating thing that could happen - forgetting your train of thought because you let your mind flutter. I want to cry.

‘’Convey’’? Who the heck am I conveying anything to? Hmm. It doesn’t matter. I don’t know what to think about, honestly. Does that mean my brain is melting? Ah, there’s something to think about. how do you end a stream of thought when every time you think ‘’I don't have anything to think about’’, you’re technically thinking about something. Hmm. I don’t know. But for now, I’ll focus on writing, and building that giant eraser.