He wasn’t always a quiet kid. When people noticed him at all, most people assumed he was quiet because he was a loser, or emo, or just plain stupid. But Jack was neither–no, Jack was quiet because he was lonely. That might sound strange. You’d think it’d be the other way around.
Jack used to be a talkative child. He talked about his feelings, about his dreams, about his problems. Looking back, Jack never really knew why he assumed anybody would care. He quickly learned that people didn’t understand him, that they never would. He would talk about the meaning of life, about the nature of love, about things he soon realized were things most people didn’t like to have to think about, much less talk about. He was too intense for the rest of humanity–far too intelligent to survive long in a world of fools. And that was how Jack started to die of loneliness.
Eventually Jack stopped talking altogether. He retreated into a mental shell, half-hoping that someone would try to crack it. But he expended all the hope and faith in humanity he had left in that move. A fatal move. Nobody noticed as Jack stopped communicating. Not one person noticed or cared when he deleted his Facebook account, when he threw his cell phone away. And when he disappeared altogether, no one made the connection between poor, isolated Jack and the unfortunate unknown teenager who’s broken body was found on the railroad tracks, just three days after Jack dropped out of a life he had hoped would never be his.