No longer did he find novelty, or intrigue, in daily life, like how the dust, suspended in mid-air, moved along with the tiniest, invisible currents of air movement under the sunlight, and the soft tapping noises of a pigeon walking on grass. It turned out the world had no secrets, and nothing exciting at all. For a thirteen-year-old, he thought himself more cynical and deep, more wise and knowing, than others of his own age. The others never saw the world his way, and were mostly uninterested to pursue the meaning of life. Even his older brother, Edward, who was always happy, who must have done an awful lot more thinking on the subject than he had, never seemed to be troubled by these higher mysteries at all. He came to the conclusion that maybe he was the special one, the unique being in this world, although not so lucky now that he was stranded in a world full of shallow people, surrounding him like an impenetrable wall, drowning him. No wonder he was depressed. But, despite having told his family on multiple occasions that he suffered clinical depression, an illness that certainly demanded immediate attention and fear, they didn't really believe him.
~~End of Snibblet~~
In other news, I have completely failed to write Chapter 2 today, because I couldn't get into the right mindset for that particular scene. Better to wait until inspiration hits than force myself to write something mediocre, eh?
You may comment on the above if you wish, please bear in mind it is still a work in progress.
21-Apr-2010 20:38:23
- Last edited on
21-Apr-2010 22:33:25
by
Englishkid62