
maybe i'm not as fine-tuned as them.
Rated: Fiction K - English - Angst/Hurt/Comfort - Words: 298 - Favs: 1 - Published: 05-19-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3023839
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frequency.
maybe i'm not as fine-tuned as them.
i. they like looking a lot.
they see me as a statue, perhaps, in their eyes, my solitary silence speaks of a new dimension to them. they point, stare and giggle, like fishmonger aunties at the neighbourhood wet market.
i feel like i'm in a different world, when we're all in the same room.
i shut up and their conversations and laughter hurt my ears.
ii. they like asking questions a lot.
or is it just me? i appreciate their little jabs at attempted conversation which always falls into an awkward, deep silence, but when it snaps my mind back into reality, i wish i could at least limply move my mouth or something. i try to make my lip muscles move, move, but they don't budge.
i feel alienated by my own kind, though there isn't anything but myself to separate us.
nodding makes them and i feel better.
iii. they like smiling a lot.
their eyes light up and their twitching mouths seem to curve upward, in an imperfect crescent. they look at me with those eyes, eyes, and i wish that i could be like them, so…happy. how can they ever be, anyway, with all this unhappiness shovelled in everyone's way?
i try emulating them, but i fail as horribly as always.
their smiles always seem to tell a different story as their eyes do.
i can't do what they do.
they seem to be fine-tuned to each other's existences that someone like me, on the outside, can never fully understand.
maybe, just maybe, we're people that run on different frequencies;
i just can't seem to find anyone that seems to run on mine.
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