I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock; its shrill bell sound can really make a guy want to pull out his hair. Just the perfect alarm to motivate me to get out of bed and throw the clock right out the window.

Unfortunately, the smiling carrot sticker on the back of it is a constant reminder of how it was a present from my grandfather. As such, I cannot destroy it despite how annoyed I am at it.

“You win again, Mr. Clock.” I mumble as I get up from bed. Whoever invented the concept of an “alarm” and convinced society that it should be an essential part of their daily lives should be cursed for all eternity to wander in the lowest circle of hell.

Despite my desire to just get back into bed as a sign of protest against this broken system, there’s only so much one person can do. And so, I put on my uniform and go downstairs. The house is eerily quiet. A few years ago, I would have absolutely loved this kind of silence. No sound of cooking from the kitchen, no loud TV noises, and no one screaming at me to hurry up and get ready for school. I remember actually wishing that things quiet down back then. But ever since the accident that took my entire family happened, I pleaded to whatever god existed out there to bring back all the noise.

Of course, that prayer remained unanswered, and I’m left with this deafening silence.

It was unbearable at first, but you learn to tolerate and accept such harsh realities after a year of putting up with it.

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I grab a slice of bread and put some jam on it before heading out the door to begin my 20 minute walk to school. I always take the same route every time. You see, I found this to be the fastest and most straightforward path available. Sure, it’s not the most scenic route and completely bypasses the seaside baywalk, but I’m not looking for aesthetics. I want machine-like efficiency.

Halfway through my journey, I stop by a small shop run by an old married couple. Relatively speaking, they only have a limited selection of items. Still, they have everything I could possibly need for my daily sustenance. I grab two pieces of pork-stuffed bread and a small packed lunch filled with rice and a side of what looks like glazed chicken strips.

“Here’s some caramel candy for you as well, deary.” the old woman said as she slipped a couple pieces of candy inside my bag.

I’ve been going by this shop everyday for several months now, and the old woman always slips some freebies with each purchase I make. If she’s doing this so I’d keep coming back as a repeat customer, then she must have been quite the marketing master in the past.

After buying my lunch for later, I continue on my way to school. At this point, I’ve already gone past the rows of houses and reached the intersection where the residential and commercial areas meet. This is also where I start to see more students either walking or running towards school. Their navy blue uniforms are the same as mine, yet I feel no connection to any of them whatsoever. Not even the slightest bit of “school camaraderie” or any other synonyms. In fact, I can hardly register their faces as they pass by me.

But I have no desire for any such connection. I find it to be too overbearing to commit to such things. This behavior of mine can be easily dismissed as teen angst as, at the age of 17, I am in the ripe age range when hormones start to flare up.

But aside from my lack of interest in other people, it would also be a huge waste to even try to build the tiniest kind of relationship with anyone.

Afterall, in two years after my graduation, I’m going to jump off the bridge outside the town and follow my family into the great beyond.

I have no idea if there even is an afterlife. Or if my family would even be waiting for me if there is one. But it doesn’t bother me that much.

Anything, even death, is better than what I have right now.