A/N: Please read AND review, thank you;-)

She sits alone in the grey, dusty corridor of the dreary school. A good distance away from her are her classmates, all chatting, laughing, discussing, smiling, their hands falling and rising with their gestures, the muscles of their faces always moving as their expressions change.

I've been in this building for nine years and not a single person whom I can trust has passed my way. Those who appear to be nice are malicious gossips, those who show their dislike openly are equally gossipy. This school holds so many people, so many, so many of them. But not one of them seems to be like me, not a single person seems to catch my eye and understand.

She wants a listening ear, she wants a look of comprehension in a soft eye, she wants someone to ease her loneliness.

I'm used to being alone. It's not good. And however used I am to being alone, I always have this yearning for friendship deep inside me. I help them. I don't expect anything in return. But I don't expect to be excluded as if I were poisonous. Am I their foe? Who am I? What am I?

She often stares at her reflection, not finding any solution in the image the cold mirror shows her.

I only see my eyes looking back at me resignedly, my hair framing my plain face. No, I can't get an answer from myself. I can't get an answer from anyone.

A burst of laughter burns her eardrums.

How I would like to join them, but they don't want me!

Why don't they want her?

Do I have something inside me that makes them abhor me?

She doesn't know. What is she doing that is so wrong? She is quiet, but not totally silent. She's different. They are different.

They say each person is unique. But they are all the same. And I'm different.

She claims that there is no man in the moon; he vanished long ago, indeed, he never existed. She used to stare at the moon from her window and whisper her sorrows to the man in the moon. But he never answered. He never understood. How could he? He doesn't exist. He can't. It's only a dream. There is no place for dreams in this world. A dream can't survive in a world which consists of physics and chemistry.

What do people care about my emotions? Why should they care? I'm one in a million, no, one in a billion! I'm nothing in the universe.

She passes her hand wearily across her drooping eyes. Her classmates continue chatting. A love-pair stands near her, kissing passionately.

No understanding.


I don't know.

She is so tired of having loneliness as her constant companion.

She doesn't understand how. She doesn't understand why. She doesn't understand. How can she understand people if they can't understand her?

It has to be mutual.

She has given up searching. Let the long arm of time, let the long fingers of fate sweep her along the tide of life.

I want to cry. I want to weep. I want to sob. I want someone to understand me. I want to understand someone.

The bell rings. She stoops, picks up her bag and walks inside the classroom and moves towards the desk where she sits all alone, an empty chair next to her as a faithful friend.