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xremovedx
Guest
It's 1:43 pm. I am sitting down in a secluded area of my University. I'm in the shade, with my back against a building and this computer on my lap. Sometimes when I sit here, I wish that the few scattered people with their headphones and books would leave for just a few seconds so I could scream and hear what it sounds like, see what it feels like. I was going to make it a point to be more outgoing this week. I was going to introduce myself to people, ask people to hang out, not sit down here like I do every week when I have a long break. My morning started out with me walking to the benches in one part of school. There is an old guy who plays the guitar in front of one of the buildings over there. I was going to introduce myself to him because he sounds like a cool guy, maybe ask him if he could teach me something. As I was sitting next to him, I could have said something, but I didn't. I'm not even really sure why. I was scared of something. Then, the people he knows by name came and I felt like an outsider. I walked to class. After class I walked through the main part of school where the clubs and organizations table and hand out fliers. I usually stop by this one table because a few people know my name as I have half-feigned interest in their organization. But after our 10-15 second hello/small talks, they turn away to talk to the people they really know and I am facing no one. I am just standing there like a deer in headlights. So, I walk away and eat a hot dog. As I walked back towards this place of solitude I passed by John the guitar player again and this time he had even more people who he knew around him. It looks so beautiful, the solidarity and laughter and happiness that these social circles share, the events they attend together, the stories they share, the opinions and information they share, the intimacy. And so now I am here again. I have watched the shadow of the building I am leaning against change its angle for the last hour or so. And after my next class is over again, I'll drive home, feel sorry for myself, study, and get my 8-9 hours rest so I can do it all over again tomorrow.
I don't live on campus like the vast majority of the other kids that go here. I walk past them all, look into their faces and know that I don't belong with them and that I won't share moments with them, I won't go to parties with them, I won't eat with them, I won't share with them. Everyday, when my classes are over, I make the 45 minute drive home and lay back on my bed. It's not all horrible though. The main silver lining to my social position is actually that long drive itself. Throughout my adolescence, driving and listening to music has been my solace. The music speaks to me and for me. I roll down the windows that I can and I scream along and share my pain with the voices and the melodies. They tell me that I'm not alone and we share. I would love to share my pain and happiness with the people I walk past, I know there has to be someone that shares these same feelings of frustration and resentment. But my brain won't let me. I just sit here and type or write in my journal. The area that I am sitting in is like an enclosed part of a building where the center of the building is actually outdoors. I just whistled to see if there was an echo, quiet enough to not disturb the one person that is sitting about 100 feet away reading. There may have been a small one.
I don't live on campus like the vast majority of the other kids that go here. I walk past them all, look into their faces and know that I don't belong with them and that I won't share moments with them, I won't go to parties with them, I won't eat with them, I won't share with them. Everyday, when my classes are over, I make the 45 minute drive home and lay back on my bed. It's not all horrible though. The main silver lining to my social position is actually that long drive itself. Throughout my adolescence, driving and listening to music has been my solace. The music speaks to me and for me. I roll down the windows that I can and I scream along and share my pain with the voices and the melodies. They tell me that I'm not alone and we share. I would love to share my pain and happiness with the people I walk past, I know there has to be someone that shares these same feelings of frustration and resentment. But my brain won't let me. I just sit here and type or write in my journal. The area that I am sitting in is like an enclosed part of a building where the center of the building is actually outdoors. I just whistled to see if there was an echo, quiet enough to not disturb the one person that is sitting about 100 feet away reading. There may have been a small one.