𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 • 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐞

Ch1 • M

۞ The Art Of Divergence ۞

🔸⏳🔸

𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝙸𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚊 ♫︎

I'm weird.

I'm awkward.

I laugh a lot, even when it's the ugliest thing you'll ever hear.

I'm annoying.

I'm pale.

I'm skinny, well, not that much because I play sports. But still skinny in my eyes.

And I'm sure I have this strange mannerism of saying "Like" in between every word I say.

I know. Judging from that description, you could say I'm not the best choice to be interested in nor get the most attention from people. It's almost as though I should get the least care from other people at all.

But here I am. In the gymnasium. With my Friends. Watching the basketball game held by my school and another from a neighboring one. Surrounded by people who I'm sure I don't remember their names but they address me as their Friend.

From classic experiences, You've most likely seen the point of view from a classic nerdy loner boy that everyone makes fun of. But have you ever stopped and wondered, 'What about the popular kid? What's it like to be him?'.

Yes, I admit. I'm known by people. I get that a lot. Well, I wouldn't say I'm "Popular" cause that's just cliché and cringe and I don't want none of that. But I would say that, well, almost the whole school knows me. Although I'm still not quite sure why.

What it's like to be in the center of the circle is quite unsurprising for a person with the mindset of someone such as myself. So I'd say, it's fucking annoying and fucking toxic. One second they're complimenting you, saying all there is to be good to get on your side.

Then they're stabbing you from behind, discoloring your image and probably saying how pathetic and gullible you are the next. And they always, always have an excuse for every action.

You never really know who's real and who isn't. And that includes, Me. How come? Well, I could tell you now, but what's the fun in that? I'm not that easy of a person, and neither is my personality. But on a real not, do I really have one?

A loud shriek from the crowd disrupted me from my loss of contact with reality. I looked around to see horrified faces, almost as though they were beyond terrified out of their shells. What could be scarier than their Starbucks bills?

Following their gaze, my eyes landed on a figure lying lifelessly (as I presumed) on the court floor. Blood was oozing from his head, and a few dripped from his mouth, which caused him to choke a bit. Then his eyes closed, and unconscious he was.

I looked at the object beside his seemingly busted head. It was the basketball ring, tumbled over with its pole still attached to it. There was blood on the edge of the hoop, so guessing that's where he hooked his head.