Disclaimer: Total Drama series doesn't belong to me but to Jennifer Perth and Tom McGill. I write for fun, not for money and blah, blah, blah ...
Summary: If you got here waiting for another supposedly romantic story with trashy humor and cheap sexually explicit scenes, please, don't even start reading. Thank you. Insert-sarcastic-remark-here, Noah. / Post-series.
Warning: English isn't my first language. It's Spanish. If you notice any grammatical error or something like that, please let me know. Thank you!
Prologue... or something like that. Meh.
I was never the most popular, the most graceful, the most talented guy, no. I never cared, either.
Growing up as the youngest of nine siblings didn't make the job any easier. 'Why so many children?', you may ask. 'Just ask my parents', I may answer.
My father, born and raised in India, had an unusual surname: Blain. It was unusual in those parts, and the story behind it didn't help much.
Mishka was his name, and he was born from the unholy union of his mother, native Indian, with his father, Canadian with an air of grandeur. That couldn't end well. And so it didn't.
Although completely despised about the notoriety and rumors he had won even before birth by his ethnicity, my father loved Canada. He loved his surname. He idolized his parents, both of them.
All without losing the love and respect for Indian culture, which he practiced with enthusiasm and pride every day of his life.
His marriage to my mother, Yalitza, was arranged from the very birth of both. And it was a bit difficult to arrange a marriage for Mishka Blain, the bastard child. But not impossible, and because of that, the world is blessed with my existence. And my siblings', but that doesn't really matter.
My brothers, Elijah, Isaiah, Jeriah, Josiah, Jonah, Zachariah and Jeremiah were born in India. After my parents moved once and for all to Canada, was born my sister Mariah. And finally, Noah.
You noticed that, right? Then I don't need to highlight it. Redundancies make me sick.
Back to my brothers, they all stood out for some reason. Zachariah, Jonah and Jeriah, were excellent athletes. Isaiah, Elijah, Josiah and Jeremiah, had formidable voices and a talent for musical instruments. Mariah cooked better than anyone, but that was probably all the cooking classes that my mother obligated her to take.
And Noah? Noah was a prodigy child.
Now, I'll stop referring to myself in third person. That makes me sound pretty stupid, and seriously, I can be called anything but 'stupid'.
I learned to read after my third birthday, and since then, I didn't stop. The first book I read was 'One Hundred Years of Solitude', at the age of five. And I understood it, from beginning to end.
It was not very talkative, and preferred to silence my opinions. My siblings always were silent about what they thought in front of our parents, and were discharged when they weren't present.
I used to write everything I couldn't say. And before some imbecile says 'Oh, diaries are for girls', I'll say 'No, dear Homo Erectus, that's a stereotype and misogynistic observation'.
Yes, I had a diary. However, I stopped writing on it when I was eight. I don't know why. I just stopped doing it.
This morning, checking the attic because my mother forced me (how else I would do something that requires physical effort?), I found it. My old diary.
I began to reread it, and laugh at the child I was. I mean, I used to believe that Santa Claus was real! With my high IQ, I still believed in that farce!
After the laughter, after reading the absurd scribbles that were my handwriting, came the inevitable moment of reflection.
I wondered 'Why did I stop writing, if I felt so free when I did?'. Nobody judged me, nobody pointed at me. It was just the pen, paper and me. Nobody else.
It was then that I looked for an unused notebook in my closet, and decided to write again. Twelve years after leaving that beautiful hobby, I decided to return.
It may be best to introduce myself 'officially' to you, in case by any remote situation I end up dying heroically and everyone wants to read my innermost thoughts. It worked for Anne, why not me?
My name is Noah Blain, and now, I'm 20 years old. I'm an outstanding college student, assisting to a university where not everything is as it seems... I'll explain that one later. I am moderately 'famous', much as I hate that word.
I participated in a popular reality show, and against all odds, I became a fan favorite. You would be surprised to know the amount of 'fangirls' who fantasize about me... thinking about it gives me chills.
I have only a few friends, and many enemies. Why? I don't know. Perhaps my open and cheerful personality repels other human beings. Meh. Why should it matter? I don't need them.
Many things happened in my life during that twelve years that I completely forgot to write. Too many things. I'll write them here. Why not?
So... I think that's all for now. I think I should finish my essay before midnight. Or before my roommate arrives with his girlfriend and kicks me out of here.
Whatever. Life hates me, I know. And I hate it in return.
Hello everyone.
I don't know how I started this. Really, I have no idea. I just started writing, and here we are now. I think I realized the enormous amount of fics about Noah, that are not exactly about Noah (?) No, I didn't understand that one either.
Anyway, I don't have much to say, really. Just thanks for giving it an opportunity, I'll try to continue it soon.
Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome and will be answered in the next chapter.
I think that's it.
Ah, yes. Happy Valentine's Day. Do the world a favor and go hit happy couples on the head (?)
Anyway, I think that's all.
Read you soon!
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