Alarmingly Strange Stories
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I was once told that life is a book that can never be reread. Once you've turned the page, all you can do is remember. You have to hope that someone else is reading the same book, so you can reminisce. We are, in a way, reading the same plot, but no one puts the same stress on the same syllables and everybody has different main characters. For me, in my book, I watched the story happen, but still wound up being a lot of people's main character. There are too many books about the travails and exploits of young, disassociated boys, fidgeting their way through high school. In a way, that's all I can say about myself. I never had the confidence I was pressured into thinking or saying I had. I never felt quite at ease being either the center of attention or a spectator. I guess it all boils down to crowds. I'm most at home when I am alone, and I can imagine my company. Looking back, I realize I must have been somewhat claustrophobic, afraid of being fenced in by talking and people who expected me to talk. I can't maintain a conversation, even one I instigated, for more than 20 minutes before I look for a way out. 20 minutes and another ruined dialogue later, I'm wishing I was back, saying everything I was afraid to say the first time. In all reality, I would probably tell a nervous, darting joke, poke someone in the ribs and shuffle away. As I walked, I would regret having gone back, afraid to ever do it again. I'm told that your whole life is spent packing a suitcase. When you are young, your parents pack it for you. As you grow older, you can take more and more control of what goes in. When you graduate, you throw your diploma in, close it up and head for college.

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