In the Fish Bowl

Think Slow, Run fast

*A/N

It is not my intention to offend/mock or ridicule. Any opinions expressed are those of fictional characters.*

All children go to school and I was socially classed/regarded as a child, that being so, I had no choice but to intend. It's a shame really, if all that unnecessary educational babble hadn't consumed my thoughts as much as it did at that age, I would have had more time to contemplate my decisions. That's exactly what I'll blame.

School.

Not one school is alike. With mine, the exterior was boring, the interior was boring, the student body and staff were, well, boring. The thing about an adjective like that was, fortunately, it could never be fact. The truth in it relied entirely on perception.

Perception.

It rhymes with deception. Coincidence? I learned to doubt that. If you stare long enough, you'll notice that the two E's separated by the C shaped nose look like eyes squinted in suspicion. Coincidence? I doubt that too.

Doubt.

A feeling you're stuck with when you end up where I eventually do.

Dear reader, my days in school were uneventful...well, not all, but that comes later. That wasn't my life, it was every kids' life. Where's the intrigue in that? I'll write about the things that had some significant impact on me, no matter how slight it may have appeared at the time, I'll remember all of them. It's often said how reality can only set in once you talk about and officially address all the moments you thought to have forever labelled 'bullshit'.

Bullshit.

Clive Nosecondname. Clive Nosecondname is bullshit.

That is what I intend to write about. Therefore my days start at four and end just as I step on the crowded eight-thirty bus the following morning. It was just better that way; quicker.

The old town in which I currently inhabited consisted of the following: a red-brick residential estate, a smaller grey-brick one, shops, scattered houses, apartment complexes, schools and the main essentials of a fully functioning dump. I refer to it as such because I can't help but feel that people had, again (for a lack of better terminology), dumped themselves here. There was so much to see and do in this world, why trap yourself to one location? They had driven in with hopes and expectations, application forms for part-time work and an intention to rent for a month or two. They're still here; simply wallowing.

I can see it in their faces; the self-loathing and change-worshipping. It was a guilt that stuck to them like expensive perfume. No, it was more like herpes, the majority of the people had it. They just didn't know.

But they'll show signs.

Eventually.

Rain seemed to bounce around on the pavement or in some places even looked like flying fish in the little rivers they had (overtime) created. It's been pouring down for a good twenty minutes now, leaving me with no other option but to sit in the glass shield that is the bus stop. The single metal bench was comfortable enough despite how the freezing temperatures had clung to it. If you ignored all the dried gum, cigarette butts and graffiti, it wasn't that bad of a hang-out place.

I should come here more often.

Due to weather conditions, very few were left on the street and those who were ran like there was no tomorrow. Maybe there wasn't. I'm far too content to find out. There's something magical about the rain, I'm not surprised that it was once considered to be 'a gift from the gods'. Sure now we've got acid rain, so, I guess it's less magical now and more murderous. Well, to fish and impressive, ancient statues made of limestone.