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Chapter 1 - Rain

I didn't think I would ever be here, you know. I had barely considered ever arriving, but it happened, as all things do and must. I'm here now, yet my mind is still flooded with mistrusts and anxieties, and every word that comes out of my mouth seems to betwixt itself with verbose obsolescence. My brain is ticking in over-time, and every person just seems to blend in with the haze of grey below my feet. I can only dream for now, but the pitter-patter of rain and my own heartbeat keeps me awake.

The rain.

The rain often came in through the window, for our professor never seemed to keep it shut. It had, rather unfortunately, led to a blatant excuse for unruly and otherwise preoccupied students to gaze upon its radiant repetition, all for the hope of some futile escape from the reality around them; and who could blame them? My narcissism and exterior solemnity when in the company of the anonymous (relative to me, of course), has always shown me up, as if it is an aura of reputation that does surround me; however, I shall admit unto myself, and myself alone, as to possessing in occasion the same misguided, mistreated, and malignant train of thought that was clearly present upon their obnoxious, yet care-free faces, and as well snaking it's feeble path in to each one of their minds. The beating of the pouring rain, as it trickles down the stained glass of our window, dripping on to the class-room floor, is rather a sight to see, in itself. I wish not to dwell upon this particular topic, however it does appear to be the most captivating at the present moment, and that of other details have completely lost their way with me, as they tear at me - it doesn't help it at all, for all of the people I've lost. Perhaps they were just the same as me, in reality, and had also wished for some form of embrace from the harsh world around them. The world always seemed to have other plans.
I looked, in equal futility, towards the rain, yet it did not offer me the same magnetic attraction that it did with most others, so I eventually realized that my thirst for stimuli could only be satiated by real people. People were frequent feeders of my ego, and my narcissism flourished upon them. I would feel terrible about using them, but they were still willing at every term; perhaps from my apparent charisma that they claimed I had, yet I believe they were only describing the true extent of my manipulative tactics. I called these people my "friends". There were a select few, to whom I dedicated some loyalty, for which I promptly referred to them as "best friends" - and although these selections of people fluctuated, just as emotional and moral bonds were created and subsequently snapped apart between us, I would still hang on to on in particular. He was called Andrew, yet it was often shortened to "Drew" (whether out of comedic or conveniencing intentions, I cannot recall).

I thought that, as I had known Andrew for such a long time, spanning for years of my life, it was practically an obligation for us to remain as tight-knit allies. I think that it worked so well because of the fact that he was always so submissive, and that I would always have to lead a group, and be dominant; I suppose that the laws of physics can be applied to social studies, and even then, I further hypothesise its use unto many aspects of abstract and practical philosophy. Whilst Andrew was never in any of my classes, I would still accompany him rather often, whether it had been through the use of technology, or in my physical appearance. Due to this fact, he had never been aware of the rain in the first place, unless I were to tell him, to which he would listen well, and provide me his insight upon it - which was that he was a firm believer in the deserving gaining advantage in the form of distraction, however that the unworthy did not deserve this spectacle, and that overall I was rather worthy indeed. After that, I would quickly switch subjects to something that even my less loyal friends could talk about (for we had formed a small retinue, as was predicted).

Within the group contained myself, of course, Andrew, and my other friends: Harold, Jeremy, and Clyde. I may as well gift you with a recount of their personalities and motives.

Harold was, well and truly, a manifestation of holiness, in that he would never upset anyone, and thus he was upset with no-one. His laughter polluted the air with a radiant joy, and was extremely frequent in doing so, whether it was forced by his hand, or in reality, a sensitive response, I could never know. He was much closer friends to Andrew and Jeremy than me and Clyde, yet I think he came to appreciate us all equally - besides, we had all a shared positive opinion of him, anyhow; yet I think his initial proximity to Andrew was mainly caused by the fact that he shared classes with him, and as he was such a magnetic soul, it was most likely inevitable for a friendship to have started. Drew and I always held our suspicions, however.

Jeremy, I would describe as laidback, yet occasionally serious, in the fact that he perfectly enjoyed happiness like many, yet would take unkindly to some jokes and phrases. I made alliances with him through some of our shared classes. He would be a rather charismatic and talkative person in school, yet use of technology to contact him, for me at least, proved unsuccessful. Andrew and Harold liked his presence, and so did I, but I never realy learned Clyde's opinions of him. His everyday life to me is fully unknown, yet I doubted it would be worth detecting for, and so I left that out of our friendship.

Clyde was a soul shrouded in mystery. His overall attitude was solemn and depressing, yet he was sometimes likeable, and as such I grew to become friends with him. His life outside of scholarship, I could only take guesses at, with him rewording and changing many of the details he had told me frequent times. Andrew made attempts to try and get closer to him, as he was equally interested, and on occasion, would we hold short conversations about him - yet when he began to talk to him more, I felt worse and worse about talking of him with Drew, and stopped as a result. He shared classes with me, and we would conversate also by the means of technology, but still would we argue, and his somewhat sensitive nature combined with my agonizing incessant whines produced several fallings-out betwixt us.

And so was my retinue, of which many attitudes, beliefs, and discussions were had. Let it be known that I should end each chapter with a poem or prose-piece I seem to think is a fitting suit for them to don, as it appears that would be my only way of keeping any sort of order anymore, especially with the way things are now. Please let it be known that I have no harsh word now upon any of my friends, and that I can only respect them as of now, for otherwise my heart would break entirely. There are others for myself to focus hate and anguish upon, and as such, may I do so.

- Perpetual Friend
"It must be irreparable,
That is of a loss,
Yet unfathomable are we at any description of it,
Thus we are at an utter loss for words,
A loss of creativity within inscription,
Used to concoct the perfect versions of a certain term,
We squirm and we squeal at the chance to behold it,
(For attention must be worth the mention and the compensation of the many,
As well as the feelings mandatory to have fled),
Yet we feel not afterwards, and are scolded by it in the aftermath,
As it grows amongst us as people,
One by one, ever sharing a disregard for care or taste inclusive,
Exclusive were they first, durst they should have shared it,
Yet they should have for the proper aid it may have granted,
Yet they shouldn't for the inspiration of the apparent initial elation,
Referred to a novelty or grand new feature,
Yet as we shall come to see,
They are mistaken within their innocent judgements,
At a loss for words once more,
As the blackened mass spreads amongst their bodies,
A carcinogen yet not inevitable as such,
And instead a descension in to the minds left to mention,
The minds torn and hastily sewn back together with thin string,
A most devious thing it would have been, to snap,
Yet a constant rasping upon these strings causes perpetual interference,
As the blackened mass inches closer to our brains,
And unto or very existence, it is changed,
Except it doesn't end -
Most wounds to mend are mended briefly and adequately,
Yet this horrid curse and pestilence boils my very blood,
Paradoxical is its terminology:
"For we shan't feel anything amongst its presence,
Yet we can still refer to as feeling it somewhat."
However, then, we must be it entirely,
If we cannot feel it,
If we cannot see it,
If we cannot hear it,
Then we must be it, indeed,
These emotions once suppresseed from this depressed nature,
Left to mature in death as lifeless husks of a time of joy,
Yet all emotion and notion of the such has become both null and void to me,
I can now see past the temporary expressions upon their faces,
These smiles and frowns,
These tears and grins,
They all mean nothing to me.
I am surrounded by a metropolis of lights,
All bright, at least bright enough,
Yet I have no light to myself,
And those closest to me have only very dim lights,
Yet if they had no light, I shouldn't see them,
They shouldn't see me,
Then, where would I be?
Black mist swiring around my skull,
Thick is the fog that binds thee,
My perpetual friend."