My name is Henry Barker.
And I'm dead.
Henry Barker or HB. Pencil, I know, very funny, right? Yeah the kids at school thought so too.
"Pencil boy" was my usual nickname. It could be other things pencil related too, but that was most popular.
I was on Earth, alive, for exactly fifteen years, fifty-four days, twenty-three hours and fourteen minutes. (I have the whole of time to collect my statistics from. That's how I can be so precise.)
I always liked collecting data. Even back on Earth.
I guess that was one of the things that made me an easy target. Maths geek, Nerd, yeah yeah. Specky-four-eyes, No-mates? The bullies had a field day!
But I never told… not teachers, not my parents. What good would have come of it?
None. No, worse than none.
Bullies would have loved that! Then I'd be a snitch, a grasser telling on them! Ha! It was exactly what a wimp such as myself would do.
So no, I never told anyone. Looking back, of course it was the best thing to do, the smart option. In the long run at least… best not to dwell on it.
Like I said, I never had any proper friends. There was this girl once though. We weren't friends really but we acknowledged each other. Said Hi in the corridors. She was picked on too.
Overweight, that was her problem. Her problem, not theirs but they had to make it that way anyway.
What do they get from it? Kicks? Thrills?
Or maybe they just can't stand any abnormality. Any goats among the sheep and they turn into wolves, rip you apart.
Once your feeling down, one little bad thing can go right through you and change everything. You decay from the inside out.
Some people self-harm; I see it everyday. They just want to show how much they hurt inside on the outside. Make it more real? Less like insanity. They're not Emo, just hurting.
Don't think I killed myself!
No, no, I'd never do that! I was in an accident. A road accident.
Okay, so maybe I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have been;- dwelling on the days tormenting and evil comments, but then, the driver was going damned fast.
Could've happened to anyone, but it was me.
I don't really remember it. Just the pain stopping-yes you heard right, stopping. Dying opened my mind. All that internal self-loathing, paranoia, aching in my soul all suddenly made a hell of a lot more sense and it was ridiculous!
What had I done?
I felt so light! If I'd vowed not to dwell on life, then I'd wish I had got over the bullies and myself before.
I didn't watch my funeral. I didn't want to see the faces of my family.
I watch them now, there's not much else to do.
Sometimes I even watch Cathy, the fat girl.
She's in her twenties now and she lost all the weight, but she was never ugly. You can't understand. You may fret about your appearance, your figure, but your damn lucky how ever you look. You have a body.
Everyone is beautiful, believe me.
I don't hold grudges. Not even against those little shits, those bullies. Oops! Can't swear in heaven!