Who's Zig Novak? That's a question that has an ample amount of answers.
To my friends, I'm a dumb ass who just really likes skateboarding. To the girls in my class, I'm a dreamy boy with messy dark hair and piercing blue eyes. To my parents (My dad, mostly), I'm an ungrateful piece of worthless shit who deserves to get my ass kicked every day of the week. To Tori Santamaria and Tristan Milligan, from what Maya told me, I'm a jerk who uses girls then breaks their hearts.
I'd like to choose D.) All of the above. I'm a little bit of all these denotations, but none of those define me. Nobody knows a thing about me, not even my adoring parents. All these people have something in common, they think they have me all figured out, that I'm just an average punk ass teenager with a love for skateboarding and girls (But mostly skateboarding). Yeah, I guess that's a way to define me, but that's not how I'd define myself.
To be honest, I have no clue how I'd define myself. I know I just said before that I was a little bit of all those definitions, yet I'm none of them at all. That's pretty damn confusing if you ask me, but just try to keep up, okay?
Believe it or not, I'm an enigma wrapped in layers of complexity. Yeah, I can use big words, because I'm actually not an idiot. I listen in class and kind of like school, because it's much better than being trapped in that hellhole I call my home.
People wonder why I'm always at the skatepark, same reason why I don't mind going to class. If you had to pick between perfecting your kickflip, or getting a glass beer bottle thrown at you, which would you choose? The answer is blatantly obvious. I can't believe I've survived over fourteen years in that house already. I hate it, but what am I supposed to do? Nothing at all. I'll just take the beatings for a few more years and get as far away as possible when I have the chance.
Grade nine has been a dud so far. There's this girl I met today though, her name's Maya. She's pretty cool, but that still doesn't get my mind off of Tori. Tori Santamaria. Even her name makes me want to shoot myself.
I hate Tori. She's arrogant, prissy, obnoxious, she cares way too much about her appearance, she never knows when to shut up, and she doesn't care about anything unless it involves her. It's sickening how conceited she is. The way she smiled at me, the soft giggle she'd let out when I made stupid jokes, the way she tosses her hair behind her shoulder every few minutes. The way she wrinkled her nose when I asked her to try and skateboard with me, the way she'd wrap her arms around my bicep when I walked her to class. The way her eyes would light up when I told her how pretty she was and how her olive skin word turn the slightest shade of pink when I'd stroke her cheek with my thumb.
Tori Santamaria, I hate her, but mostly I hate myself for liking her so much. I hurt her in the past, but I didn't care, and I'll never be able to show how happy she made me for the short amount of time we were together. She got my mind off of everything, she was my rock, and she didn't even know it. Tori Santamaria, that mouthful of a name