This is the first page. Tell me what you think.

Jumping from the second story was something I have been contemplating for quite sometime. Looking down at the perfectly hedged grass. The wet sky dark and black, waiting to pour on the world. People have always told me that ‘there is something about me’. I never understood what that meant. Asking why never got me anywhere. Searching your soul for what you truly mean to someone and telling them the honest truth. I tend to hurt people because I can be very particular. And I am a coward. Who want to hear the truth, right? As I start to ju—

“Wake up! You’re going to be late for school, Cole. And if you’re late again, I swear to powers that be,” says Mom. She always has been so very colorful with her entrances. Waking up in the middle of the night to find her stumbling in with toilet paper in her hair, wearing a sequin tube top, and drunk. That was two days ago.

“All right, all right. I’m awake. No need to get sacrilegious on me,” as I say with a smile on face. She hasn’t been to church in twenty years. Getting ready has always been a tedious morning routine for me. Getting up from the dreams is hard enough but going through the trouble to move your body and lift yourself out of bed can be quite the hassle. I go to the bathroom and start my programmed exercise. Go pee, brush teeth, picking clothes to wear…

One of the hardest tasks a person can go through everyday,

Shower, starting with the left to the right to the up to the down. Everyday. We are programmed robots.
“All right Mom, see you later on. Have fun at work.”
“Oh yeah, blast. Have a good day, honey.”
“Will do. Love ya,” and I am out the door. Walking through the autumn leaves is a short enjoyment of mine. The colors mesmerize me. Like walking through a kaleidoscope. Orange, like the neon glow. Red and the small amount of green leaves that didn’t have the strength to continue on the branches of the powerful trees. The hurricane enamored trees. I wish I had their strength.
I make it to the high school without any trouble. Not the usual destructive banter of students against the non-hetero among them. The fear something like that evokes when you tell them, “I am gay.” The eyes. The eyes as they watch you like you are some hybrid disease waiting to attach yourself onto one of them.


Hopefully it's decent. It will be a work of fiction mixed with some realism.