It's always there.

The tingling feeling in the back of my head that keeps on nagging me. I never seem to be in the right place, never fitting anywhere.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t try to find my place. To find a little corner in this too big of a world where I feel a little bit at ease. But the feeling never goes away. It follows me everywhere and anywhere. No matter where I go I come face to face with my reality, as if it was something bigger than me from which I shall never escape.

Suddenly, Martin barges into the room, as he always does. Startled, I flip my head around at the sound of the door. There’s this hole that the door’s handle keeps on forging on the wall of the reading club as Martin opens the door, once again, with way too much energy.

Martin. The oh so damn fitting Martin. Anywhere he goes he consumes the space, making every bit of it his own.

His eyes cross mine and he comes right at me. Never have I felt so out of place. Now that he’s officially in a relationship with Jacques, there’s this stupid glow around him that quite creeps the hell out of me.

I can’t bring myself to say that I’m not jealous of him though. With that annoyingly white smile of his, he talks and he talks like we're the best friends in the whole world. That’s the way he acts around everyone, making them feel so special when in reality no one can be when they’re being near him.

I listen to the sound of his voice, sometimes nodding or humming, but my attention stays mostly directed toward the pages of my book. I can’t be listening to him telling me how wonderful his life is while mine feels like it’s crumbling. Tears come to my eyes as I try not to listen to him. He’s saying how amazing it is that he got such acceptance from the hockey team even though he’s dating a guy, or something along these lines. He even thanks me for being a part of the oh so understanding hockey team, even though we both know I skip most of the practices and bench every single game. The only reason I haven’t been kicked out from this stupid team is the lack of players. Why would someone as bright as him hang out with a black hole like me anyway? The only thing I’m really good at is bringing others down.

Martin stares at me with concern as the first tear makes its way down my cheeks, and the animate talking comes abruptly to an end. I blame my tears on the stupid book I’m reading, even though I don’t think anyone’s ever cried while reading The Princess Bride. That book’s amazing, but someone like him wouldn’t know a thing about it.

I wander off in my own thoughts again, barely paying attention to Martin as Jacques comes, hugging him lovingly from behind. Ugh. Public displays of affection always remind me I'll never have someone like that.

Why the hell am I so different?

Looking at my phone, I realise that it’s almost time for my chemistry class. Grumbling, I get away from Mr. perfect and his boyfriend as fast as possible, leaving them alone to their cuddling and sweet words. I can’t be late for Mrs. Stainley’s class. That teacher scares the crap out of me.

I find myself sitting at the only seat that was available as I entered the classroom. First lab days are always the worst. I hate the fact that I can’t do an experiment right; my lab partner generally hates it too. Either it blows up, either it simply doesn’t work. Beat me, I just can’t do chemistry.

Next to me is some guy I never saw before, even though we’re in a second semester’s class. He must be new around here. All I know about him is that he’s doomed because he’s sitting at the same table as me and he’ll be stuck with me for every experiment until finals.

He gives me a kind, and quite awkward, smile. As I reciprocate his smile, my mind can’t help but scream how amazingly handsome he is. Probably not to everyone though. He’s got that quiet charm that pressures the blood straight to my cheeks. Never have I seen anyone like him, green eyes and freckles all over the place. My type’s never been the same as everyone, and I guess that’s okay with me as I've always been a bit off from reality.

I must have been staring for too long, as I sense discomfort in his eyes. Shyly, my hand goes through my hair without me having to think about it. I just can’t get him out of my head.

The teacher doesn’t miss my absent glare, and the nightmare begins.