The world has fallen on his shoulders. The world has fallen on the young boy's shoulders but like Atlas he keeps going. Going, going, go on. Gone. He will carry the weight of the world until it is one day gone. The world and its weight. Wait. Gait. Agape. He bears the weight which he hopes to abate and watches with his mouth agape as all his friends pass by.
He has friends, the young boy, but they pass by him again and again. Again today he is not with them. They do not see the weight he balances. Balancing the weight of the world on his shoulders, he keeps going. He wrings his hands together and hopes tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow he and his friends will be better off. Off, on, light switch on. The light switches on onto Ontario.
The young boy has friends because they laugh at his jokes. They laugh at his jokes, a light switches on, on and on he leaves the room. The light is left on. Left. Lest. Leper. He keeps telling himself tomorrow will be better. But he wonders because he's lonely again. Lonely, alone, all by himself because his friends didn't wait for him. He is disappointed. Disappoint, disapprove. He turns the light on in his room.
His room is okay. O-K. It's OK that his friends didn't wait because he had to carry the world and its weight. He couldn't have rationed it out easily, the young boy. He's not that good at math. Math, mathematics, magic. Pragmatic. He is faithful nonpragmatical. The young boy is faithful that one day his friends will wait for him. One day maybe tomorrow. They will wait and offer to help him balance the weight of the world and won't care if it's even. Even, evening, leaving.
They will not leave without him again. But in his room with his light on, he secretly wonders if he is wrong. If their laughter is something other than playful. Something he doesn't understand because according to the teacher and the old man, he doesn't know anything other than words. Worded. Hurted. Not really a word, he reminds himself. Hurt. So he has to think about their laughter even if he doesn't know what else it could be. He laughs. The young boy laughs when he feels happy. He is not laughing. He is stupid and lonely.
He stares at the window. His light his reflection he sees. Disbelief. Disbelieving what he is seeing. He sees himself without any friends alone and sad bearing the weight of the world. It leaves a distaste in his mouth. The young boy with the distaste, sad face, he is friendless because he is a mistake.