An Outsider On The Inside

Acknowledgements

Sabrina Peixoto

Lily Schier

Sophia Mey

and

Stephen Chbosky

We suffer more in imagination than in reality.

-Seneca

A note from the author

The deadliest words in the human language are ‘I’m fine.’

Those two evil words that signify the boundary line.

‘I’m fine’ is used as a way to escape.

From the awkward conversation that is about to take shape.

Because when you are asked how are you doing?

And you can’t really say your emotions are improving,

The doubt, confusion and unease that follow, is really quiet a tough pill to swallow. And the last thing I want to do is talk,

So when you ask that question, all I want to do is walk.

So what do I reply when you ask that question?

Those infamous words that don’t imply depression.

‘I’m fine’ I say without disbelief.

Now who will know that I feel this grief?

Is this something I should keep to myself?

Lock it away? Hide it on the bookshelf?

No my friend, you need to talk.

Have a conversation, sit down, go for a walk.

We don’t have to go into specifics.

For all I care we can talk about hieroglyphics.

Just know you have a friend in me,

Who is willing to listen with no fee.

So please don’t use those awful words ‘I’m fine’

Because I will try to dig a little deeper and be your lifeline.

It’s not weak to speak.

Chapter 1

The Pilot

The routines. That’s what I hate the most. I can take the pain, the torture, but it’s hard to feel like a man when you are being told when you can eat, when you can sleep, when you can shit. Yeah, that’s what will kill you in here. Getting used to the routines, becoming animals. Maybe I already have become one, evolution might finally be going in the opposite direction- full ‘Planet of the Ape’s’ style. Of course, when I talk of routines I’m not talking about any prison or even a war zone. I’m talking about school, the last truly terrifying place in which these routines are exercised daily. I however was forced to humbly oblige to these practices. God, it’s an idiotic and outdated culture, but that’s how you survive. Adapt or die.

I guess Port Kembler was just like any other school. You had the various groups and cliques that different people fit into. The jocks, the geeks, the popular kids, you’ve heard it before. It didn’t take me long to realize that I didn’t fit into any of these groups. In fact, I found it difficult to identify any real label to describe who I was. I was neither an introvert nor an extrovert, I was not the smartest kid around, but I definitely wasn’t the dumbest and I could play sports I guess, but I was never the best. This caused me to have somewhat of an identity crisis.

The movies so often were about the nerd who became a popular kid or the jock who realized there is more to life than sport-the typical movie stereotypes. I felt maybe I was different, which character am I? Where do I fit? What movie relates to me?

The ‘40-year-old virgin’ looked likely at this stage.

But as I got older, I started to change my thinking. I thought myself as an actor and for each group or clique I was able to show a different version of myself based on who I imagined they wanted me to be.

I say this without trying to sound like a complete psycho, but it was like a character performance. Whilst playing sport I was very introverted and held back as the jocks love to feel superior. In English class I was very grammatical to keep up with the scholars and in math, well actually I am horrible at math, so I just played dumb to lower expectations. The different acts got so extreme that I had a different persona around school, in each class and at home.

I just wanted something to define me though, a label of sorts. So, I created my own group; I was a contextual. What is a contextual? Well it’s someone that changes their personality depending on the situation around them, depending on the context. Someone that moves and adapts- is the middleman, the Switzerland of life. Yeah that’s me- from what I know, the very first contextual. I don’t want to glorify it or overdramatise it, but I do need to make this one clear distinction. There is a big difference between fitting in (aka a contextual) and being invisible. The kid that is invisible doesn’t talk to anyone and goes about his days thinking nobody notices him. A bit of a downer.

Me on the hand, well I fit in. Different situations call for different versions of myself. I’m not quiet or shy in class, I will still put up my hand if I have to. I am more than happy to go up to people to ask a question and I can communicate well, it’s just, I know when to play it safe, so I do hold back a little.

If you hold back- people have the perception that you are normal, when in fact I feel very different to these people. Perception is reality and normality is king whilst navigating the maze of high school.

But to be honest I just acted the way I thought other people wanted me to act; it kept me safe from conflict. Being a contextual worked for most of my childhood, I never got into a fight, never really got in trouble, but some may say that this is not a healthy way of living.

Those same people are the ones who had their heads dunked in the toilet 50,000 times in high school, so to those people I say screw you. But I would say that high school isn’t really life anyway, it’s not even close.

Walking down the halls you can already point out those people who will likely ‘peak in high school’. So, I can sleep at night knowing I’m saving my genuine self for the real world.

I guess you could also say I have big ambitions for the future; getting into college, travelling the world, working on movies etcetera. So, I try to focus on those goals instead, realizing that life gets a bit easier when you use the future to escape the present.

I just hope I don’t end up being one of those people who never get away from this place. Doomed to be trapped in the normality of Port Kembler forever. I know I’m destined for something more.

You can see those types of people every day, they have a certain look about them. Maybe it’s a soullessness or lack of purpose. But one thing is for sure, they don’t look satisfied.

Some days I just want to pack a bag and go searching for something better. Anything better really. Although for the time being, I’m stuck here. Port Kembler and all it’s ordinariness is my reality until I can finally move away for College someday.

Now you are probably thinking, ‘this kid definitely has no friends.’

But wrong again, I did have one middleman companion, Billy.

Billy was short, had dark hair and was very much a strange yet criminally underrated character. Not that anybody knew that though. Billy was the type of kid who could go through the whole of his high school years completely undetected. His witty comebacks and often humorous expressions always kept me entertained.

He wasn’t from the best of neighborhoods. His father did time, his mother was on the other side of the country with his little sister, so he lived with his Aunt Patricia. A lovely and kind lady that makes the best roast chicken imaginable.

But Billy really didn’t talk about that much. He focused most of his time watching classic cinema with me. The Godfather, Rebel with a cause, Citizen Kane. The real classics. We both love a good movie.

Billy and I first met in year 7 when we were caught staring into a year 10 classroom that happened to be watching the timeless film ‘Gone with the wind.’ The class, nearly all falling asleep, and completely disengaged while their teacher, who we now know as Mr Mac, was so intensely watching the film, it was somewhat scary. Mr Mac was the only teacher to really understand us and why we could never fit in, mostly because we didn’t want anyone to know how different we really were.

Mr Mac was a middle-aged, grey, stubby and soft-spoken man. I feel like he would be the sweet prison guard in an alternative version of ‘The Green Mile’. He is very easily persuaded and often too kind for his own good.

So, Billy and I spent a lot of time watching movies in Mr Mac’s class. Most recesses and lunches were spent in his classroom. He never cared and he soon trusted us to stay in the room unsupervised. It was an easy way to avoid the rest of the school and keep safe.

It was choices like these that resulted in the two of us navigating school relatively undetected. But eventually we came up with some concrete rules to live by:

First rule- Avoid the Cafeteria at all costs!

The cafeteria is full of bad food and worse people. It is a war zone, with no control and no clear winner. Unlike most other schools Port Kembler had no unblemished leading group, every group was equally crazy and wanted to seize control. The most logical leaders would be in the jocks, but they are too busy comparing their dick size to give a rat’s ass about anyone else.

The geeks perhaps? God no, geeks fear attention like the Jewish feared the Nazis.

What about the Asian community? I think the language gap in itself is a good enough reason.

So, at the top of the Port Kembler social structure is a void, a mess, an emptiness, caused by a constant power push by each group to grasp control and the results are futile. This is why one must avoid this war at all costs!

And like every war movie in history there is a damsel, an angel, or goddess that all the peasants try to woo. Where one look from her can turn any man into a tiny ant just waiting to be stomped on.

Which leads me to:

Rule 2- Love is a trap

Love only came in one form at Port Kembler. Her name was Ophelia Peters. She was truly pure and good and managed to be liked by everyone, the perfect girl next door. That auburn-haired goddess could just as easily be extremely cute, flip a switch and bam, she is a sex icon. But Ophelia was more than the sum of her parts. She had a certain way to entice people to thinking she was exactly like them. Nothing can consume you more than that feeling of not being alone, that you aren’t in fact crazy and there are more like you out there. The feeling of belonging. Of course, I was lured into the trap almost immediately. She came up to me once and mentioned how she thought Casablanca was a masterpiece. I fell in love instantly. So now when I see her, I manage to say all of two words. I wouldn’t even say words; I would more say just general sounds coming out of my mouth. But with love comes challenge and challenge brings disaster for an awkward teenager like myself. Plus, what’s the point of a doomed high school romance anyways? So, avoid and evade is the best strategy.

Rule 3- Home and School are always separate

My home life compared to school wasn’t that great either, I mean I think it’s just the typical teenager perspective on the matter. But my parents are very protective of me. Being the youngest I guess they have to be. My dad is home a lot because of his unusual job. He is a search engine evaluator, basically he sits at home for most of the day while he tests websites like Google and Yahoo and see how fast they are, or something like that. I honestly nearly just fell asleep just writing about it. I never knew how he got into that but then again, my dad is rather odd. Maybe that’s where I get it from. He is often testing my ever-lessening patience with out of the blue one liners like ‘I’m tired of people assuming I’ve got a good personality because I’m ugly,’ like seriously? But dad is unapologetically himself. That’s something I really admire.

My mum is one of the kindest ladies you could ever meet. So kind, the expectation it puts on me is overwhelming. I simply cannot compute with this much kindness. Let me put that into context. She is one of those people who cleans the house, even before the cleaners arrive, just to ‘make it easier’ on them. But she always worries about me. She asks about a 100 questions per day and doesn’t really see me as an adult, I don’t blame her.

The final member of our peculiar family is my older brother. He is the typical perfectionist, the star footballer, the ladies’ man and the perfect son. 6 foot 3, dark hair, brooding brown eyes and a smile that can light up any room. You could say he is like a life-size figurine, probably from some teenage girl’s optimistic dream. My brother was never going to be added to the list of unexceptional people around Port Kembler that’s for sure.

He is now in college studying Greek history and with no surprise, he is thriving.

I have somewhat shaken off the title as Ben’s brother, but every now and again the dreaded question appears: are you Ben’s brother? to which my reply is a dull emotionless look and a swift left side step, that even my football playing brother would be proud off. I did always look up to him and as brotherly relationships goes, I guess you could say we were close.

From that description, you would think he would be a massive attention seeker, but I never thought of him that way. He was humble- like I said, a perfect son. He tries hard to keep me involved in a world designed to exclude me.

Ben was acting a little strange lately; I could only describe it as seeing someone being reserved, like he was holding something back. Maybe he is just stressed out with college. I often overthink things, it’s probably nothing.

But, overall, I never really felt like I was enough for my family. That constant feeling of trying to prove my worth was only overshadowed by a fear of judgement. Not to get too sappy, but I knew these awkward teenage years were a necessary evil to get to a better place after school, to leave home and to finally excel in something.

You could ask the genuine question; am I completely content with the contextual lifestyle? For the most part, yes, I guess I am committed.

But I have always had this weird feeling, like an emptiness or something missing. I wish I knew what it was. Forever cursed looking for an answer I can never find, I guess. But safety does come at a high cost and for the time being I am willing to pay it. I’m just waiting for my chance. Tomorrow will be my time to shine, so today, I am more than happy to sit in this middle ground.

You could say that these years feel like limbo to me, I just need to survive it and something good will be around the corner. I just have to wait for my moment.

So, a secret and hidden outsider in the unsuspecting and naïve inside, what could go wrong?

But like every good movie, a plot twist is imminent. As routines are set, so too is that sick bastard we all know as life, ready to fuck things up.

Oh, by the way my name is Zac Kallest. I don’t think I will really tell you much more about me than that. I don’t think it’s an important part in this story. You can make your own mind up about me. I will give you a hint though, I am tall and perfectly adequate.

Chapter 2

Monday

February 7th started off like any other day. Actually, that opening line always annoys me in the movies. But how do I start this? I can tell you that on this day a 19-year-old nearly died. So yeah, that’s a good start, I guess.

It was the start of the second week of school, my final year in this hell. Like always the first week was more about the designation of ‘spots.’ You know when every group has a ‘spot’ they call their own throughout the school year. That special table or the shaded area under the trees, typical prime real estate. However, these spots will always be taken by the seniors. This un-denying and immortal rule of school ground history will forever be followed.

Of course, this rule is only an exception on the very first week of school every year, where groups and subgroups will battle it out for the best ‘spot’ to hang out. I once heard Will Prosper a member of the musical gang came in at 5:30am on the first day to claim the area below the music room, which he says, is the best for acoustics. Todd Mathews, the local bully and all-round idiot, had a different idea. He wanted the area to smoke and get his autistic side out. Did I say autistic? Oh sorry I meant artistic. Either way it’s fair to say that the musical gang did not get their area back.

The first week for a contextual like me is also imperative. You have to manage to blend in amongst the changing social structure and adapt accordingly. You have to be the first to know if the jocks have moved ‘spots’ from the stadium steps to the school parking lot. You have to know the new entrants or exiting members of groups so as to know who you need to avoid.

But as I said, this isn’t about the first week of school, oh no, this is the second week, or what I like to call it; hell week. You may be wondering why this is the case. Well if you have ever noticed at your school, the first week is the delegation of social structure. But the second week… is where all hell breaks loose. Groups are all set in their new ‘spots’ and hierarchies have been established, but now they need fuel to keep the fire burning. They are observing, watching, preying and detecting any hot gossip to power their conversation for the rest of the year. Trust me, YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE THIS GOSSIP. If you are in these conversations during the second week of school, you are basically a dead man walking, actually death is too nice a term for this. It’s more like being a socially marked man with a tattoo on your back saying, Do not talk to me. And this happens across all