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My name is inconsequential. My age is not an issue, although some would say otherwise. The clock next to my desk reads 12:01. I’ve always been a minute behind everyone else. Maybe that’s why I still know what the word “Individual” means. Wait, do I? 2
It seems like everything that once held splendor in this world has merged into one shapeless, colorless, loveless cube of self-loathing. The animals in apartment A-1 are having meaningless, unprotected sex. I can hear her screaming; I doubt he knows her name. It turns out everyone I thought I knew is a completely different person. My Plain-Jane is doing drugs, and the Little Mermaid is getting felt-up by her Prince. The Asian Beauty-Queen is cutting herself, and the Student Body President stopped eating yesterday. The friendly redhead has dyed her hair blond, and the captivating blond who is mourning the loss of her best friend is the only person who seems to have any feeling left. But she too will soon be reduced to nothingness like the rest of us. 3
The clock next to my desk now reads 1:12. I’m running out of time, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. There really isn’t much more for me to say, except keep dreaming.4
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Author notes
This is about a few of my friends. I didn't use their real names, only what I see them to be. Not all of it is true.
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