You see that group in the corner? The group wearing Adidas and white shoes, hair gelled back and the smell of new plastic. Another group “hanging” on the grass; iPods, Converse, Roxy shorts and H&M tops, pretend they know you and then forget. Then there are the small groups; people reading, leaning against trees, boyfriends and girlfriends “making out” by the clusters of tables and chairs. Small groups of friends rushing by, laughing at private jokes. The drama club glaring at passers-by, the teams wrestling with each other over previous matches.

All-seeing but unseen, surrounded by happiness yet unhappy; drowning in a sea of fun and games as if knocked out by a circus clown. I know almost everything about this school: the fashions, the best jokes, the latest break-ups and fallouts. Yet no one asks me. I am a fountain of knowledge, omniscient and able, but seem undiscovered or am somehow unworthy. I’m always there; I’ve hung out with every crowd; every nerd and every queen. But no one ever seems to notice me. I hover on the sidelines, not even part of the game I wish to run in; watching and waiting for someone to see me before I move on, taking with me yet more unwanted information.

Take Polly, the closest I ever had to a friend. We would hang out from time to time, for the first time she made me noticed. It was the beginning; I would be there for her, sometimes she would be there for me, it was enough. I had formalities with some after that, the occasional wave or passing greeting. It was like that for a year and the time passed more easily; no longer like constantly trying to swallow old, stale bread. I couldn’t believe that I had lived for so long without friends, some to eat lunch with and others to sit with in lessons. I couldn’t believe how good it made me feel to have people who cared for me.

But in the midst of my social rising, it changed. I went to hospital for a week, I remember some pain; but it went away. For one of my days in hospital Polly came to visit me, she met my family; they got on fine. But I didn’t understand why she didn’t talk to me; she was my friend.

My dreams were disturbed, memories of the night I became ill. Confusion, mind blank, dizziness and dancing; a group of friends, a small white pill, one swallow. Happily drowning in a sea of fun and games, blurred images of laughing circus clowns. Twirling round faster and faster, and then slumping to the floor. I woke up in a sweat.

The next day I got up, my parents still asleep, and checked myself out. The nurse must have been busy because she didn’t notice me leave; even when I tried to talk to her. I arrived at school late and excused myself, the teacher ignored me so I sat down, the person I normally sat with was with someone else. He looked sad.

At break-time I found Polly, no one waved at me as I passed, Polly didn’t see me. I talked to her but she answered her phone; after one minute she hung up and started crying. I watched her walk away.

For the next few weeks people seemed sad and distant, I didn’t understand why. I was ignored completely: no one waved, no one answered me, teachers ignored my work, Polly made new friends.

Time slipped away and I was left alone. I gave up on Polly and tried to make new friends, but no one heard me or saw me. I retreated inside myself, slowly withdrawing from life; only able to observe, not partake.

Now I sit here most days, all-seeing but unseen, surrounded by happiness yet unhappy; drowning in a sea of fun and games having been knocked out by a circus clown. I am not noticed by anyone, as if I wasn’t here.

The mood around me changes suddenly; I look up, the bustle of every day life is different. Everyone stands with a crowd, the usual groups mixed like lost sheep. From the assembly breaks one person. It’s Polly. I smile and rise to greet her; she’s crying. I walk towards her to comfort her, to renew old friendships, to become part of the world again. Slowly I lift my arms, smile reassuringly, surely someone will notice me at last? She lifts her head as if she has seen me and draws herself up, still walking towards me. I move forward, time speeds up.

She passes through me.

Confusion, my mind is blank; she passed through me. A ripple seems to run through time, I turn to see another embrace her. A scrap of paper falls to the ground from her loosened grip. I pick it up. It’s set out like a leaflet, the cover decorated with cherry blossoms and one picture. The photograph seems familiar; but my view is clouded by tears. I read, slowly.

Memorial service, 1st November 2006: In remembrance of Elizabeth Smith, 1990 – 2005.

All-seeing but unseen, surrounded by happiness yet unhappy; having drowned in a sea of fun and games, knocked out by a circus clown.

Dead.

Elizabeth Smith, 1990 – 2005.

Dead.

Confusion, mind blank, dizziness and dancing; a group of friends, a small white pill, one swallow. Happily drowning in a sea of fun and games, blurred images of laughing circus clowns. Twirling round faster and faster,

and then death.