She has sat there for as long as she can remember. Her back, turned away from the door, nose buried in a book, with earphones plugged into her ears, listening to all the melodies emanating from her device. ‘Antisocial’ and ‘quiet’ are some of the words they whisper whenever they see her, seated alone, with her nose in a book. They spit these words, like insults, as though enjoying your own company is the highest form of misery. It is a cell without bail; with no chance of parole. It should be avoided at all times.
‘Don’t you get bored?’ they ask. ‘Don’t you want to make friends?’….To these , she simply cocks her head and smirks. A gesture that further clarifies her ‘weirdo’ status. They leave her be, for now. They don’t realize that it’s done out of innocence, she doesn’t mean to offend. She wants to inform them that she does have friends, that the characters that lay before her are her family. That they usually embark on all sorts of adventures. That they have shared in each other’s joys and sorrows.
She wants them to understand that every new book that she picks us, is a meeting with new people, a chance to make new friends. Additionally, the conclusion of every book, serves as a bitter-sweet moment, saying goodbye to friends has never been an easy task. It’s heartbreaking, yet unavoidable and she tries to take it with all the grace she can master.
She’d like to shout that her friends don’t mind that she’s ‘antisocial’ or ‘quiet’, they actually like this about her. She listens to all their stories. They love the fact that she’s a ‘weirdo’ and they actually encourage her to always have her nose buried in a book.
Instead, she just looks up, cocks her head to the side and smirks.
