8.8.11

He sat in the corner, this time, at least, not lonely, but calm. He is happy, and surprised she can't remember the last time he felt like this. Like he was worth something. He closes his eyes and rests his head on his knees, hugging them, hiding his smile. He doesn't want to be made fun of again, though he thinks he could laugh along this time, if it happened now.

He scoots back a little more into the corner, and leans against the wall, raising his head and opening his eyes. He sees other people in groups, laughing and talking, but for once doesn't feel left out or sad. It's interesting, feeling like this. He thinks he likes it.

A girl he knows slightly sees him, and beckons to him to join her, but he shakes his head. He doesn't want to have to lie right now, or interact with anyone. He is perfectly content to be here on his own, even if he'll be uprooted in a minute anyway. He smiles again, and closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall. He doesn't think he's ever been less aware of his scars, mental or physical.

He hears people starting to move, and so gets up, closing his eyes as the visual dizziness sets in, but then opening them, though he doesn't know why. He is grateful, he decides, and wants to see the beauty there sometimes is in life. He just wishes he could see it more often.