|Odd man out
Author: Lord Mephystroph PM
You go, finally understanding that these people would have been far better of without you around, knowing the sole fact that you never were a part of them in the first place.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Drama - Words: 875 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 01-08-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3090513
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It is an odd feeling that rests on you when you finally realize through the wisdom granted by indifference that you're inevitably stuck in that fine line between being only a mere acquaintance and being a friend. You're almost a stranger to them at this point, but you have turned far too jaded to really care, anymore.
When they see you (that is, when they don't walk by you as if you don't exist and actually acknowledge you're there), they greet you with small words and stifled smiles that raises your spirits up a little for just a moment- ("Peace, man!", "Hello!", or "Hey, how's life?") -only to have them deflated soon after as they move along once you are done with your reply.
It is always that last question they ask that annoys you the most, and it is something you absolutely detest. You never have any idea on how the hell you ought to respond in those moments, and you don't really know what answer you're meant to give. It is the sort of question that usually reduces you to giving noncommittal shrugs and mumbled worlds of "fine, it's good" and the like, and you hate it so much because it is always followed with a heavy, solemn silence hanging in the air that neither you nor the other can take. So they go.
They move on to conglomerate within their own clans and cliques of kindred folk that clearly does not include you. They talk and gossip about things and people they would rather not discuss with you. You're just that different.
Maybe it's by the way you speak. Maybe it's by your enthusiasm. You don't know, you can't be damned with it anymore. You have always had the tendency to think differently, to be "out of the box" as they called it. You were always the first of the many "willing victims" who dared to try something new (and usually daft). This grants you a label, "the clever, crazy one" or "the thinker", although at this point you're not quite sure if you still like that label. Over time, it is a label you learn to resent, because despite the attention it garners you, you get a nagging feeling at the back of your head that your unusual behaviorisms are scaring people away. But what else did you expect?
Truly, what you really hate is that apparent distinction of who, or what people feel you are that sets you apart from the rest, because you'd rather be a part of them. To be one of them. (Or feel like that, at least.)
So you learn to tone down that adventurous spirit to the point you've become little more than background noise. You learn to simplify the lengthy answers you think of in your head to not awe your peers so much. You shrink yourself, in hopes that they might acknowledge you a little more as a less extraordinary person.
Your self-silencing leaves you with feelings of loathing and regret that you try as much as you can to ignore, if it's possible to ignore the stabbing needles you feel on your back. Yet even then you find out that you are still stuck in that awkward limbo of being inside, yet outside, of one's circle of companions, at the same time. You still resort to whipping out your outdated cellphone to fiddle and pretend to be occupied with to not look so totally out-of-place.
At long last, it dawns upon you that they don't exactly care to know you. They never cared at all. All you get for your efforts is a bitter tang of personal dissatisfaction that lies heavily on your tongue, and it makes you want to puke out all the crap you have been forced to take over the years you've spent with these people trying and failing to get close to them.
At the end, when you finally reach your limit and become sick and tired of all this "community spirit" nonsense, you go, just like how others pseudo-ostracized like yourself before you have gone.
You go, leaving behind silent gratuitous apologies for being in the way so many times, for being such an overly enthusiastic, intrusive bastard. For being that bloody awkward creature they couldn't bear to be around with.
You go as fast and as far as you can in hopes that no one will see you leave, and in hopes that you would never cross their minds again. ("It's not as if they would notice anyway," you tell yourself.)
You go, finally understanding that these people would have been far better of without you around, knowing the sole fact that you never were a part of them in the first place.
Without a trace. Without goodbyes or farewells.
(It's for the best, after all.)
A/N: This was my very first time writing in two person perspective. Criticism is appreciated. This was written on a particularly moody day, and I had to get this out of my system.
Now I feel better (sort of).