I'm roused by the most obnoxious alarm one could imagine. A shrill scream of beep's sends my fist from my bed to the snooze button. Sudden silence seduces my inapt morning senses as I drift back to sleep. I find myself driving through the hellish rush hour traffic in the city. Is this a dream? It's quite a boring dream, as expected. Most everything in my life is as mundane as plain oatmeal, even my dreams. I look around at my fellow rush hour drivers. An infuriated business women with long brown hair is in the car to the left of me. I could sense her rage from a mile away as she clenches the steering wheel, violently shaking it. She's also screaming vile profanities, which don't add to her case. After staring at her for an overdrawn minute, she's dives further into her madness as she begins honking her horn as if that would make the traffic move any faster.
My eyes slowly open to my mother, a late 40 something brunette business woman savagely shaking the alarm in my face. Beep beep beep… "get the fucking hell out of bed, you're late to school". She storms out of the room back to her business of making breakfast and taking calls. I check the time, of course I still have about 40 minutes; just enough time to get everything done and get to school before my first class, skipping the uneventful chats with my "friends" and so called peers. I quickly brush my teeth and wash my face. To wear, for this hot summer day, I choose a plain pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I then casually stroll downstairs to eat my breakfast.
Oatmeal. God damn oatmeal again. I was hoping for a cake, something chocolatey with a lot of frosting but nope, it's oatmeal friday. Quite very similar to mundane monday's mush and the rest of the week. It's not like I'm underweight or anything, we're fed a healthy yet extra ordinary diet which has lead to my quite average body and looks. Cake would just be.. a nice surprise.
My brother sits across the table from me, quietly eating his oatmeal. He's a good kid, quiet and smart like me although much younger. I'm 18 and he's 7, so there's a bit of an age gap. It's soon time to go, my brother hugs me and hands me a card, which I stash in my bag. I hug him back and mutter good bye to him and my mother. She doesn't notice as she continues to talk furious business on the phone.
I begin my short walk to school. It's a sunny June day, the 21st to be exact, just a day after the solstice, the longest and most drawn out day of the year. Just then, I remember my brothers card. "Happy 18th Birthday! I love you brother". I feel something I haven't felt in a while. A brief warmth of happiness pierces my stomach. A smile erupts from my stiff lips. The moment is soon over as I see my school approaching.
School drifts by period by boring period until lunch. I sit with my friends in the middle of the lunch room. Were not quite with the nerdy kids and definitely not the cool kids. We're the average bunch, sitting dead centre in the lunch room. I feel a brief glimmer of hope, that maybe one of my friends will remember my birthday, I mean with the advent of Facebook and smartphones, you'd think someone would remember, but sadly nothing.
Lunch continues. I listen in on the usual high school lunch banter. Complaints about girls we never get, difficult homework assignments and video games are the de facto standard of our lunch conversation. Video game babble I can get, we find that interested and enjoyable, but girls and tough homework? It's not like any of these guys have put any effort into either of those subjects. They just banter on about how they will never accomplish anything or never get what they want.
Finally the bell rings it's aggravatingly quick dings, signifying our return to education. Like sheep we're herded to class. I wade through several more hours of boring lectures until the school day is done. I slip through the halls unnoticed and make my way home. I sit my self down in front of the comfort of my computer, perhaps someone on Facebook has noticed. One message from Steve Wachowski. "Hey bud, happy birthday! Hope you have an awesome and exciting day!". I wonder what it would be like if I was born 10 years ago, before all this internet social networking bullshit. My "bud" Steve would have probably not even cared to remember my birthday.
I guess it doesn't matter that much. I'm only one out of what… 7 billion or so? That's a pretty insignificant fraction. Is doing anything really worth it? I wonder what Steve did on his birthday? Was it "awesome and exciting? Probably more than my day. Man, fuck my friends, they're all insignificant fucking fractional bastards too.
