Only Child Finishing High School About To Learn For The First Time Nobody Really Gives A Fuck What They Think About Anything

INGRID DOULTON | Lady Writer | Contact

A young bloke with the world at his feet will learn a few things about it over the coming months as he enters what the rest of us know as real life.

Jonty O'Neil, who will receive a mid-range ATAR around Christmas time from his twelve unremarkable years the elite Whooton School in Betoota Grove, is the only son of an architect and textile retailer and because of that, his ideas and opinons on various subject have often been listened to and in some instances, entertained.

Some only children have their self-worth chewed up and spat out during high school but not Jonty, who told our reporter he will genuinely miss school and hopes he stays in contact with all his friends. Whereas most people in this town simply cannot wait to finish high school, get the fuck out and never speak to any of these fucking people ever again.

But as the 18-year-old prepares himself to leave the safe harbour of Betoota's elite private school bubble and journey out into the real world which is full of people that don't care about him or what he as to day, he is still yet to understand this.

When he arrives at university, be it in Brisbane or Adelaide, he will face a choice between sinking and swimming.

His fellow students don't have to listen to him, many will not like him just by the virtue of where he went to school and the postcode he grew up in. He will try to understand why that is and never really find an answer. It'll be at least another 5 to 10 years until he realises that it's just life.

Lecturers and academics aren't elite private high school teachers. They don't actually give a fuck if you turn up or not. If you pass or if you fail. They just show up and teach the class and go back to marking AI-written essays on how socialism could work in tandem with capital punishment.

Nobody will care about his stories from this cosmopolitan inland port city. Nobody. In fact, most things he will say, will not be listened to by anyone. Anyone with a few siblings knows this. You are not special, you are just a collection of cells that transforms ultra-processed food into runny poo.

But he's been told he's special. He's gifted and above average in everything. This is true in every way, except for his academic and sporting results. Is it ADHD? Who cares. Nobody's going to slap him upside the head when he's in COM130 daydreaming about what bats have for breakfast.

One day, about this time next year, the penny will drop and he'll be richer for it. But until then, he remains in the warm little love bubble.

More to come.