Most of us grew up trying to keep up with others.

          His clear memory of him and his mother arguing because he couldn't write his own name still marked in his tender and fragile mind. Jason couldn't remember when or why but he was aware of how. It was like any other day back then, he was in their second storey house when his mother decided to teach him to write his name before he goes to school next academic year. She carried a pad of paper and a pencil with her while the boy was playing with his younger sibling.

          At first, his mother told him to write his name. He was neither afraid nor worried about scribbling things because, for him, the pencil and paper are his best bud; yet the true struggle for him was the idea of writing itself due to his poor knowledge of letters and numbers.  He mostly miswrote the letter z to s and b to d. His mother's temper was quite stronger when it comes to obeying orders, then, she lost it. The young Jason got beaten from not knowing his letters so he cried, but he knew his tears wouldn't stop his mother from beating him over the symbols.

          Years later, Jason grew up to be a teenager. His life was composed of sickening pimples, big glasses, and high parents' expectations. Most his pals were straight A students except him. Well, at first he didn't worry that much since his friends were supportive to him, but there's a voice at the side of his head saying, 'You're not good enough'. He tried to push them away, yet it clasped to him like a limb to his body. 

         He tried to find a way to escape the madness where he lost his track of reality. Then, he remembered writing. His family had plenty of books with them, mostly fictions. He tried one and realised he enjoyed it, so he tried reading much more even at school, during meals and before sleep, everyone could always see him reading a book. His parents were distant to him, most of his friends are busy, too, and only the tattooed papers are there for him. His love of books changed him drastically.

          Most of the time, they'll see him, eyes darted to his books. He barely spoke, not even to his sibling. His parents, on the other hand, were frequently having business affairs across the land. One time, his teachers told his parents about their son's lack of interest in his studies. The parents, upon hearing the news, got frustrated about his misbehaviour. They hurriedly return to see why it was happening.

          The teen spent most of his time locked in his room, books served as his pillows. His room's door suddenly burst open. 'What is the meaning of this?' his mother bragged, flipping a piece of paper in the air. He peeked, hiding half his face under the book and said, 'Mother, you're finally home!' The lad stood up to hug his mother but end up being slapped. 'Why are your grades dropping? Answer me! Why? Are the things we give you not enough? Are our sacrifices not enough!? Jason, you, of all people, should know why we work hard. You should know and understand why we are away. Don't you understand that simple thing?'

          Jason felt a sting of guilt about what he did. He gradually lifted his head. 'But mother--' 

          'Now you're making an excuse?' His mother made a forced laugh. 'I never taught you to talk back to me, young man. Stop your nonsense and be a role model to your siblings! You're the eldest, we expect you to be the one to know better! Is that difficult?' His eyes nearly welled with tears, but as a strong boy he is, he fought back. 'I'm... I'm sorry, mother.'

          His mother banned him from reading fictional books ever again until he graduated from his studies, but for him, school is a never-ending nightmare. He tried to not weep a single tear nor to let a single feeling of anger to make him feel bad for his parents. 'Mother's only doing what's best for me,' he kept on reminding himself as he lay on his bed cuddling to his pillow.

          There was no time where not reading or even holding a book on his hand made him at ease. One of his friends noticed him appearing much gloomy than he usually was. 'You okay?' he asked as he pulled a chair beside Jason where he could sit on. The boy lowered his head away from the intruder. 'Uh huh... if that's what you want.' 

          Jason often eats alone because no one wanted to bother him especially if he was reading but now, almost everyone could sense there was something odd about him. His friend came again, pulling the same chair to sit on. 'I haven't seen ya, chap, read for like a month, maybe, or two. I can't remember, really,' he squinted his eyes as he tried to reminisce the date. 'Urgh, forget it. Jokes aside, man, is there a problem? Did you finish reading all your fancy books?'

'No,' Jason cooed, 'I can't read anymore.'

          His friend's brow furrowed. 'What? Did I hear it right? The Jason O'Rio couldn't read anymore? Are ya even kiddin' me?'

          'I wish.' Jason sighed. He pulled his report card from his bag and placed it on the table for his friend to see. 'My grades are horrible, I scarcely eat at the right time and forgets to sleep due to my interest in living in a different world.' Jason leant his body toward the centre of the table and buried half his face under his crossed arms. 'My mother... she wants me to live a normal life... pushed me to communicate with others and be happy outside my room. I swear I am trying... but I'm barely living.'

          His friend froze, thinking of a right thing to continue the conversation. 'Then live.' Jason gave him a face of disbelief then his friend continued. 'I knew ya, Jay, for the longest of time. We're childhood friends, aren't we? Your mother's kinda wonky sometimes but ya never sod off. Ya love sittin' around, flippin' the pages of your book. I saw you smile. The truest smile I'd ever seen in my life. It's your decision, Jay, whether you live or not. Not mine, not even anyone.'

          The school bell rang, signalling the students to return to their classes. Jason's friend stood up. 'By the way, your stories are brilliant, Jay. It's a shame if you won't do the thing you're best at and what makes you alive.' His friend threw him a notebook. Jason swiftly grabbed it. 'Being a rebel doesn't necessarily mean you're doing the wrong thing especially if it leads to somethin' positive,' his friend said before vanishing in Jason's view.

          Jason seized the notebook in his chest and smiled. 'You're right.'