A Micheal-centric fic for my friend Zighana! :D

Everything up to this point was pointless.

I've come up with a hypothesis; life is nothing but one big distraction after another. That everything was just a bunch meaningless decisions. From what you're going to do for the rest of your life down to your next meal, it was another choice.

I'm tired of choosing. I'm tired of decisions.

We're all just wandering around with no rhyme or reason to live but presented are certain guidelines. School, work and die.

Maybe I missed something along the way… Yeah, that had to be it. Everyone had a life changing moment. Stop doing or start doing… its anything to move their lives forward. To progress. To move on.

That wonderful moment between point A and B. Start and finish.

I couldn't figure it out. I couldn't comprehend it and yet every fucking conformist knew the answer and kept it to themselves. But I never got the chance and there was no way to salvage that happiness. The older and older I became, happiness became a fairy tale…

I let the smoke drift out of the small part in my lips and wisp into my eyes. It burned them, irritated them and somehow the smell of my smoke was getting on my nerves.

My eyebrows were scrunched down in concentration and my eyes were glued to a page in my new book I bought.

My new favorite word is Kafkaesque.

I'm going to graduate from high school and merge into the rest of society tomorrow. It's nightmarish… complex and downright terrifying. It's such a broad word and yet it can summarize my life at the moment.

I brought two fingers to the cigarette, pinching the butt and dying it into an ashtray beside me. An obnoxious looking cloud of smoke exited my nose and floated right into my eyes.

What was I going to do after this? What lied ahead for me? I'd get a job and blend seamlessly with the others. I'll just be another name tag. Not a face, just a name. A forgetful name that provides a service.

It's too much to think about.

I'll be an adult and released into the world. Kicked on my ass with my dick flapping in the wind. I never made out any applications for scholarships… My grades weren't complete shit but pretty close. The only reason I got into the college that my parents wanted was because of my nearly perfect Act score.

I've never had something make me doubt my whole way of life. Never have I questioned anything… I always did. I never sat back and thought it through. I just made choices as I saw fit.

I just made pointless decisions.

And is that any way to live?

I heard a knock on my door as my mother dropped another empty box on the floor. "Put down that book and start packing!" her accent was thick, so much so that most people couldn't understand her.

"But Mom-"

"Michael!"

I rolled my eyes, packing up the rest of my clothes that were neatly stacked on the bed. It wasn't any fun to go to college just after graduation. I don't get any breaks. And I don't get any time to say goodbye.

While sifting through my things that laid on my bed neatly to pack, I came upon a picture frame. And I swear the smoke had aggravated my eyes. Tears were pricking them.

Pete… or he shall be known as Hair Flip. He was always so aggressive and yet so quiet. Soft spoken. I remember one time we were at the Village Inn and he chucked a salt shaker at our waitress, that conformist Bebe. She told him that he had 'greasy' hair. I think it was because the fringe always hung down and gave him unsightly pimples.

I can't say I won't miss him. He was… enjoyable to be around. He was always there when we needed him. He'll watch over the group now. Pete is a natural-born leader. He'll take care of everyone.

Then there was Firkle. Admittedly, he was the most Goth of anyone in our group. He might have been small but… gosh, he was really dark.

Heh, 'Nazi conformist cheerleaders'. I'll never forget that phrase for as long as I live.

And Henrietta… oh, Henrietta. What could I even say about her? She was a little thick. Very interesting… very lost… she was easily swayed. To tell you the truth she was always unsure about herself. Henrietta would always come to me if she had a problem. I'll never forget her globing on lipstick just to wipe it off or smoking a cigarette and secretly gagging on the smoke.

I never got the chance to tell her how I really felt about her… I think it's best to let the dead dog lie.

I carefully removed the frame's back and slid the picture out. I held it up and examining it. I remember… The spring of sophomore year.

It was taken with one of my vintage cameras I wanted to try out. Everyone looked just as happy to be alive as I did. They weren't even remotely looking at the camera either.

It was the only picture I had of them.

Sitting by the loading docks behind the school. Reading poetry in the graveyard. Sitting in Henrietta's room. Smoking and drinking slightly burnt coffee in the Village Inn. Their faces. The occasional smiles. The snowy ground.

I'll miss everything.

All I can say is thank you.

"Are you finished packing yet?" I could hear my mother's voice echo from the other room. It was loud, obnoxious even.

Thank you for everything-

That smoke really irritated my eyes. Tears were streaming down my cheeks and a small sputter left my lips. Yeah, it was just the smoke.

I reached into my pocket, grabbing it close before flicking the metal and the flame engulfed the picture within seconds. I opened my trash can and let the flaming remnants float down into the can below.

-even if it was pointless.

I found my voice and I called back, "Yeah, I'm all ready to go."

I'm moving on. I'm moving forward. This is my moment in awe.