I found this on my computer.

It was the start of a script I once thought about writing about my Yr10 and 11 life experiences. Maybe I still will write it one day. Not today.

I think it was meant to begin on the front steps of a function centre down at Dee Why as I arrived at my year 10 formal.

From a backwards point of view, I see everything. But the beginning never is what it seems, and ends only really happen after they actually do. I mean you never end at a specific point. Usually 2 months, years, down the track you think “Well I guess that’s over.” And I guess it is.

But in finding a place to start this story I have decided to start here. Year 10, 1998. My formal. Strange really. It was my first, and second last. Many people arrived in their posh cars, with their posh partners, attempting to sneek in posh illegal substances. I arrived in my white people mover with my Indian friend Raheeb. Right now I’m attempting to extract a hefty object from the seat of my pants. Notice those cool looking folks cool looking at me?

COOL FOLK
Tom, what the f*** are you doing?

Tom digs around the back of his pants some more. He extracts what he was looking for.

TOM
My book.

The story of me. I didn’t take girls places. I took books. The rest of the formal isn’t all that interesting. I tried to read my book but only got four pages read till the lights went out so people could dance. And the rest of the time I was trying to persuade Raheeb not to take photos of the girl he was stalking. She asked me to ask him to stop. Maybe she liked me.