• I sat alone this day, as always. I used to be bothered by the lack of companionship, but to tell you the truth, it doesn't bother me at all anymore. Of course I would love to be around people, to have someone with whom to share experiences, but I could see myself living perfectly content in solitude. Maybe that is why I shy away from social gatherings. In my mind, the less I know about relationships the better, not because they are bad. Quite the opposite to be exact. It is the joy I know they could bring to me that keeps me away from them. Because in the end, it is just going to be me, by myself, left to my own mechanisms, with my only conversations being between the different sides of my own mind. The fact that I don't know what I'm missing is probably the only thing keeping my neck bare.

    The chair creaked under my weight and its own perpetually growing age. Despite this, maybe even because of it (I really wouldn't know), I kicked my feet back, resting them on the desk in front of me, the wall a bit to my back keeping the chair from falling. A flash of lightning broke the darkness, followed shortly by the sound of thunder and, almost immediately after, the sound of my younger brother waking from bed, most likely scared by the storm. The pitter-patter of his little feet rushing out of his room confirmed this. I could hear his foot falls, his light gasps of breath, both from the fear and from running.

    I visualized him all the while, running across the hall, down the stairs. He turned a left, then a right, opening the door to our parent's room and shaking the bed sheets to get them up. Mom, it was always mom, got up quickly. She was used to this. Tommy had done it a million times before, and I had done it a million times before him, and I am almost positive our older brother Kyle had done it a million times before me.

    "Mommy, I'm scared," I said, knowing that young Thomas was saying those exact words, at that exact moment, his squeaky little voice even more so out of fear, possibly accompanied by a slight stutter, if he was scared enough.

    "What is it honey?" is what my mother might have said. She said that so many times to me and Thomas, I knew she would again. Many times, her sweet, deep and beautiful delivery of words alone would be enough to send me back to my room feeling safe. But no, not today, today she wouldn't ask him that. The storm had been going on since morning. She would know exactly what was wrong with him this night, and so without a word, just a loving smile, she would scoot over, revealing a spot just for him. Thomas would jump into the bed and curl up next to her, and together they would go to sleep within seconds, smiling.

    I never saw this happen, but I didn't have to. It did happen, I knew it did. Nothing changed, it was the same monotonous way it was yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, stretching back to my childhood when I would do the same. And I wouldn't doubt that during those trips across the house, Kyle would be in his room, this room, playing out the events in his mind, knowing exactly what would happen. It is so easy to read people, too easy sometimes. You just have to have the time and patience.

    I looked around the room. It was bland. I had no posters of the coolest bands or the hottest movie stars. I had no pictures of my friends, lacking the required resources for such things. I don't have any video games or movies, not even a TV. I was too generous for those, as whenever mom asked me if I wanted one, I just said "That's okay mom, use the money for something else." My room said nothing about my personality, so unlike Thomas' colorful quarters or my parents' regal decor. You wouldn't even know anyone lived here. Most visitors thought my room was the guest room at first glance, and were happily surprised when they discovered that the guest room was actually much more welcoming.

    "I have all the time in the world," I said, and I almost smiled at the sentiment. Almost.