Everybody passed, not even giving me a passing glance, not even a thoughtful look. I didn't mind though. I'd always been a bit of a loner and I enjoyed my solitude. I wasn't lonely, not at all. I was perfectly content to sit in a corner with a good book. It was pure heaven to be left alone. Yes. Indeed. No doubt.
But if what I always told myself was true, then why, whenever I saw groups walk past, laughing and joking together, did I feel that same pang in my chest? Why, when I saw couples pass by, hand in hand and whispering sweet-nothings to each other, did I wish for the same?
If I was so happy, then why was I so miserable?
Sighing, I closed my book and set it aside, drawing my knees up to my chest and staring up at the clear blue sky. I was alone, but it never bothered me to be. The problem, I realized, wasn't being alone, but being lonely. One could be in the middle of a crowd and feel lonely, and yet be solitary and perfectly at ease. Much as I had been only moments before.
It was always on quiet days like this that I thought about such things. It was such a trail. I recalled a time, years ago, when I'd tried to be part of the crowd. I'd down everything I could possibly think of to fit in with everyone else. I picked up their habits, smoking and drinking, partying and staying out late. I changed my appearance, wore the same clothes, listened to the same music, and in the process, I'd lost myself. And to what purpose? I still didn't belong in the end.
A soft breeze stirred my hair, the soft strands tickling my nose. It seemed like such a crime to feel so down and dark on such a lovely day. Then again, rainy days had their happy moments too, so the sun couldn't hog all of the brightness.
Everybody knew that the light itself wasn't what brought happiness, but rather, who was in that light.
And I had nobody.
I was nobody.
"Why do I even bother?" I asked myself, beginning to rock slowly, still mesmerized by the soft, fluffy white clouds that whisked across the sky, carried by the strengthening wind. I'd tried to fit in, and failed. I tried to be myself…and I still failed. What was the point, anyways? Life just didn't make sense anymore.
Then again, when did it ever?
There was the odd person, not much more than an acquaintance, that I could sometimes relate to. Could spend time with. But really, I had no true friends. No one I could go to in a time of need. No one I could hold on to when I cried. Not that I cried, mind you. I always saw it as a childish thing, a waste of time and energy. Really, what was the whole point of crying? It only made you look terrible, what with the red eyes and puffy cheeks. It gave you a headache and it only left you feeling emptier than before. I speak from experience. Thus, why I refuse to do so anymore.
But even as I sat under that tree, thinking about all these things, arguing with myself and trying to convince my troubled mind, my aching heart, that I wasn't lonely, I knew it was all a lie. A big, cushy lie that I'd created for myself so I could get through each day. Some were harder than others, but with the lie as a security blanket, I could persevere.
Sometimes, though, I didn't want to.
There were days when I wanted to just curl up into a ball and disappear. After all, who would miss me if I had no friends?
Sick of such thoughts, I pushed up to my feet, retrieved my book and headed for home. There was nothing, no one, waiting for me when I got there, but for some reason, I felt better. Perhaps it was the familiar walls enclosing me, making me feel more secure in my insecurity.
Such nonsense I drabbled to myself.
Placing the book back on its shelf, I sat down on the couch, staring blankly around the room. Everything was as it should be, yet I could sense that something was off.
Maybe…it was too quiet. Too empty.
But what could I do to fill it? I was a loner. Nobody wanted to be around me, anymore than I wanted to be around them most days.
The phone rang suddenly, and I was helpless to do more than stare at it in wonder, amazed that it still worked after such a long time of disuse. When the answering machine picked it up, I was surprised to feel my heart sink as the voice of my boss filled the silence of my home, asking if I was going to come in tomorrow or not.
I sighed again, tired with it all. I knew that even if I tried, I would only fail to change what was.
Unfortunately, what was…quite frankly, sucked.
I decided to go for a walk, since the sanctuary of home did nothing to soothe my restlessness. I slipped my shoes back on and opened the door, only to reel back at the person standing on my porch, fist raised as if to knock.
We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before the visitor spoke up.
"Um, hey, Zexy…I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go for a walk with me."
I blinked at him, numbed by his presence, and even more struck by his reason for being here. He shifted from foot to foot, blue-green eyes wide and hopeful. Why Demyx of all people to appear on my doorstep when I was hungry for companionship? Because that was what my problem was, I realized with a start.
I didn't want to be alone anymore.
He sighed when I still didn't answer, just stared at him blankly, like I always did. "Well, you don't have to…I was just curious so…bye." Demyx turned and walked down the drive, hands tucked into his pockets as he stared down at the pavement beneath his shuffling feet, a dejected aura suddenly surrounding him.
Slamming the door shut behind me, I sprinted to catch up, grabbing his arm to pull him to a stop.
"Actually," I said quietly. "A walk would be great."
Demyx smiled at me and the two of us walked around town for hours, neither speaking nor wanting to. Simply glad for company.
And I knew for the first time, I wasn't ever alone. Life was waiting for me to just reach out and grasp it and its possibilities, its risks, its chances…and its rewards. The offer always stood, no matter how many times I rejected it.
All I had to do was take it.
