What Is Life Without a Purpose? What Is Purpose Without Love?

One thing I really wish I could change about myself, is my ability to communicate. With anyone. God, I can't even talk to my family without tensing up and stuttering. I don't mean to, I just think too hard while talking to people, always paying too close attention to myself and who ever is looking at me.
I don't like being looked at, it makes me want to pull a blanket or a bag or just, something over my head.

And that's why speaking is kept to a minimum, especially at school.
Don't get me wrong, if I were to talk, it'd be a mile a minute but I just don't.
I've got a lot to say, but just can't. Sometimes I wish I had someone to talk to like that, and let out all my ideas to; but talking is what makes that not possible, anyway.
I've tried writing songs before but of course they're terrible. And I don't have anyone to sing them, so it's useless; I'm of course, absolutely not going to sing them, or show them to anyone, either. So in the drawer they sit.

I'd draw stuff but I'm not very good at that either, even though I love art. I even have two art classes next quarter, which I'm excited for.
I couldn't help but wonder if Austin was going to be in them, considering he seems to be quite the artist, I thought as I walked into third block biology, seeing him drawing. As usual.
Except he would probably already be way beyond where I would be put in an art class. He's like a level fifty if I'm at level one.
I took my seat, waiting for class to start, a bell ringing to signal we had to be in our rooms.
I started to zone out about ten minutes into our teacher going on about osmosis and diffusion and blah blah blah. But my attention was caught by someone not quite yelling, but close enough.
Austin slammed his pencil down, turning to face whoever was seated across from him.

"Will you just leave me alone? Holy shit. I told you, I'm drawing whatever I'm drawing, that's it. I don't know!"
I saw his friend, Tom, stare at him and whoever the other person was, in shock.

"Calm down man, I was just asking." They replied.

"Austin! Is there a problem?" The teacher spoke up.

"He can obviously see that I'm drawing so he can obviously look over and see for himself what I'm drawing, instead of bugging the shit out of me."
He sighed angrily.

"Watch your language, Austin, or you can leave."

"I'd rather fucking leave." He mumbled, looking back down to his paper, all slouched down in his chair.
He looked like a punk. Which was kind of funny, or at least it would be if I wasn't caught up in the seriousness of their conversation.
Why was he freaking out over that? In my opinion, someone asking what you're drawing isn't a valid reason to flip shit. He wasn't like that at all this morning.

But the teacher just ignored his remark and kept on instructing the class. Whoever that was- I hadn't even tried to learn names- definitely didn't try to talk the rest of class.
I did keep wondering though, what had gotten into him? Why was a question such a problem?
Why was I even concerned?

I guess Austin was interesting to even think about. I didn't even know how old he was and I was fascinated by his behavior; switching between sweet and...not-so-sweet, I guess, within a matter of minutes. That was a recurring thought I had of him.
I'd never been this concerned with anyone in this short of time.
Am I weird? I'm probably weird. I should probably stop paying attention to him, or thinking of him in general. Probably sound/look like some stalker or something.
Except the rest of class was spent with me trying to imagine him as an actual punk, red liberty spikes and everything.

-&-

It's hard to forget about someone when they suddenly start appearing everywhere. For instance; this morning, the day after I'd decided to forget about his existence, Austin was outside later than usual again and ended up walking to school with me.
Again. On his own terms.
And again, I couldn't talk to him for shit and made myself most likely sound like a complete idiot. I really wish he wouldn't talk to me sometimes. Like, why does he even? He can hardly talk to me, and it's my fault, not even his.
But on another note it kind of made me feel...special? He didn't like to talk to anyone.

Excepthewaswalkingtowardsmerightnow.

"Hi Alan." He smiled, sliding in the lunch line next to me.

"Hi." I smiled back quickly. I picked up one of the salads in the plastic containers, hoping to get away quickly.

"I was wondering, I'm in here every day and I don't see you. Where do you even sit?"

"I mostly don't sit in here, but um, when I do I sit over there." I pointed to the back corner of the cafeteria to the circular table I sometimes sat in. There were a few kids that sat there every day, and from the times I had sat there I'd realized none of them talk to each other, either. Every once in a while they'd make conversation;but mostly only listened to music, did work or whatever they needed without communicating. Just the way I like it.

"Oh... friends of yours?"

He picked up his food and followed me to the register. I shook my head.

"No actually, we don't talk. Just do our own thing, I don't even know some of their names. I don't really care to."

He nodded and said 'oh'.

"Where do you sit? If you don't mind me asking. That's not weird right, I mean you just asked me so I just assumed it'd be okay but wow I probably sound weird now I'm sorry." I mentally slapped myself in the face, for probably the tenth time during our conversations. I probably would have done it physically if it wouldn't send a container full of vegetables flying over the room.
He laughed.
"I sit over there, the polar opposite of you. Me and my friends talk but honestly, I hardly ever hear what they're saying. I don't really care to, either, I guess."

"They talk a lot?"

"You have no idea. There's never nothing to talk about, even if they have to make up something to discuss."

Indeed, the polar opposite of my table.

"You know...no one talks at my table. If you ever w-want, you can come, uh...sit with us." I shrugged, figuring it was an empty offer.

"Yeah, maybe I will sometime."
People always say stuff like that so I knew he was just trying to take my offer nicely.
We all know he'd never be seated at that table, I mean, why would he anyway? It'd probably ruin his reputation or something. Although he didn't actually seem like the kind of person that fretted over a 'reputation'. But he more than likely had one. I mean, I already knew how he was.
Kind of.

I threw my salad in the trash bin on my way out of the cafeteria, headed for the library.
You probably think I'm some lame kid that spends his lunch life in the library, but I don't actually go there that often. Today I just felt like looking around and it was starting to get a bit chilly outside anyway. Not the kind of chilly you need a sweatshirt for, just at the temperature where it's uncomfortable to be in for any amount of time. When summer starts to cool down, but you're so used to sweating your balls off that it's cold.

I sat down on one of the bean bags that the library contained and made myself comfortable, waiting for lunch, and school in general, to be over.
The latter would take a while, though.