Chapter One:
I walked through the narrow streets with my head down, as per usual.
But recently, I'd been completing this journey alone.
The sweet thoughts of home where the only thing that made my legs function correctly, that made them bother.
Home. My favourite word. No drama, no awkward conversations, absolute and pure bliss. Too me, at any rate.
I was a bit of a loner, but no-one could blame me. I'm not particularly exciting, unlike my 'friends'.
I just didn't know what they saw in me, if anything. Not that I was in a position too take any offered friendship for granted, no matter how fake. Maybe I was just jealous, but then, who wouldn't be jealous of them?
They have everything. The money, the boyfriends, the looks, the top designer clothes, they only had too utter the word and their very wishes would be granted.
I wondered if they truly accepted me at all. I had ignored the signs of rejection, but they'd been there. The conversations falling flat when I entered the room, the general avoidance of me (even if it was only as of lately), the stifled giggles when they thought I was out of ear shot. But what was I too them? A charity case at best, an unwanted follower at worst.
My increasingly depressing thoughts were interrupted as I stumbled a little over what I thought was my foot.
I looked around nonchalantly, taking in the sparse faces on the narrow path. I didn't recognise any of them,
not one. This was officially the 'uncool direction' too walk in. What a load of rubbish. I returned too face forward and was not surprised too see a glimpse of the many fancy houses that lined the worn walkway. I turned and gazed longingly at them, and I saw my favourite one. It had big, airy windows to reveal the light open plan living room. It was furnished with unstained, white plush settees and the largest television system I had seen in some time. I had often been caught glancing through that window by the young woman that lived there. She never thought harshly of me, and her soft face only ever conveyed a warm smile, no bitterness, nor annoyance. I would stand and stare all day if I could, remembering the sweet expressions of genuine happiness that were so rare nowadays.
Eventually, I allowed my feet too drag me forward. In the far distance i could see some hooded figures, and as I approached them I looked awkwardly at the floor as I was overcome by a bitter annoyance. I hated it when groups of people just stood there, without a care of the world. With the annoyance also came jealousy. Friends, real, real friends. Or at least an illusion of friendship. That’s what I craved. Standing in a group, out of school. A pending fantasy that about summed up my life. I will forever and always walk alone, as long as I am too cautious too socialise with different people. But the truth was that this was something I could only entertain in my imagination, for there was not a crew nor a clique out there that would truly accept me as me, the boring me. My neck creaked as I slowly raised my head, as soon as I was sure the hooded figures, along with the bitter thoughts that they evoked, where out of sight. Out of mind. And at peace, I continued too dawdle slowly towards my home, my mind still whirring, but my thoughts slowly numbing into silence.
1
I walked through the narrow streets with my head down, as per usual.
But recently, I'd been completing this journey alone.
The sweet thoughts of home where the only thing that made my legs function correctly, that made them bother.
Home. My favourite word. No drama, no awkward conversations, absolute and pure bliss. Too me, at any rate.
I was a bit of a loner, but no-one could blame me. I'm not particularly exciting, unlike my 'friends'.
I just didn't know what they saw in me, if anything. Not that I was in a position too take any offered friendship for granted, no matter how fake. Maybe I was just jealous, but then, who wouldn't be jealous of them?
They have everything. The money, the boyfriends, the looks, the top designer clothes, they only had too utter the word and their very wishes would be granted.
I wondered if they truly accepted me at all. I had ignored the signs of rejection, but they'd been there. The conversations falling flat when I entered the room, the general avoidance of me (even if it was only as of lately), the stifled giggles when they thought I was out of ear shot. But what was I too them? A charity case at best, an unwanted follower at worst.
My increasingly depressing thoughts were interrupted as I stumbled a little over what I thought was my foot.
I looked around nonchalantly, taking in the sparse faces on the narrow path. I didn't recognise any of them,
not one. This was officially the 'uncool direction' too walk in. What a load of rubbish. I returned too face forward and was not surprised too see a glimpse of the many fancy houses that lined the worn walkway. I turned and gazed longingly at them, and I saw my favourite one. It had big, airy windows to reveal the light open plan living room. It was furnished with unstained, white plush settees and the largest television system I had seen in some time. I had often been caught glancing through that window by the young woman that lived there. She never thought harshly of me, and her soft face only ever conveyed a warm smile, no bitterness, nor annoyance. I would stand and stare all day if I could, remembering the sweet expressions of genuine happiness that were so rare nowadays.
Eventually, I allowed my feet too drag me forward. In the far distance i could see some hooded figures, and as I approached them I looked awkwardly at the floor as I was overcome by a bitter annoyance. I hated it when groups of people just stood there, without a care of the world. With the annoyance also came jealousy. Friends, real, real friends. Or at least an illusion of friendship. That’s what I craved. Standing in a group, out of school. A pending fantasy that about summed up my life. I will forever and always walk alone, as long as I am too cautious too socialise with different people. But the truth was that this was something I could only entertain in my imagination, for there was not a crew nor a clique out there that would truly accept me as me, the boring me. My neck creaked as I slowly raised my head, as soon as I was sure the hooded figures, along with the bitter thoughts that they evoked, where out of sight. Out of mind. And at peace, I continued too dawdle slowly towards my home, my mind still whirring, but my thoughts slowly numbing into silence.
1
