the boy named X

foreword

this is part of a series i recently got inspired to write about. all characters are fictional by the way. so don't start guessing who it is. here goes...

once upon a time there lived a boy who was invisible. he wasn't literally invisible, of course, for we all know that can't be possible in real life (and even if it was, we wouldn't know anyway). so, back to the boy - people called him X. now X was the epitome of mediocrity. he was relatively book-smart, but never had the makings of a top scholar; without having to study extremely hard though, he made it into college - unseen, of course. X was also relatively inclined towards the arts. he played a musical instrument (now i can't remember what that was, but he did), but was never very good at it, even after playing for about a decade. he continued playing anyway, for he felt comfortable.

X, of course, had parents, who doesn't? his parents weren't alcoholics, compulsive gamblers, nor were they workaholics who never had time for their children. for one reason or another, however, they were too cooped up with their own lives to take a second look at X. now they were the type of parents who didn't believe in expressing their love towards others outwardly - conservative, traditional, whatever you wanna call it. perhaps it was a vicious cycle - parents didn't wanna take the initiative to find out about son's life, son feels like a stranger at home, son stays out, parents assume son doesn't care, and it goes on. no one knew how that cycle started, but it's like a slippery slope.

one would expect X to embrace a life outside home, but being the mediocre himself, he was pretty invisible to everyone. he didn't make the effort to make himself seen or heard anyway. so that's it, X had few friends - he was always alone. in fact he actually enjoyed that kind of solitude, although he wished he had a person to turn to sometimes. that yearning seems to grow by the day, but at the end of it, there was still no one. is it too late to start?

needle in a haystack

exactly, this is what i've been! a needle in a haystack, as much as i hate to admit it. and it's not like i can help it being that tiny, insignificant needle. exit from the scene and not one person will bat an eyelid. alright ignore the bad english, just let me grouse, for once.

to think i've failed to realise it all this while - there're probably 476 other people who can offer what i can offer. and did i mention they could give more than i can? no, i'm not even wanted in the scene. i forced my way in, grit my teeth and foolishly tried to climb through that huge haystack, hoping to reach the top, just so that THAT one person will take a second look. but oh, how foolish can one get? i am but a tiny needle.

alright it really is time to pick up the pieces and move on. don't look back. in restrospect, however (not trying to sound oxymoronic here), i never should've entertained the thought of diving back in when i first decided to move out of it. one big mistake i made in my life. BIG MISTAKE. then again, who doesn't make mistakes? oh wells.