Author's Note: The one question I always get stuck on—be it in an interview, when writing or during a conversation—is when I'm asked to describe myself. I just go blank and I don't know what to say. A few days ago, whilst doing a writing prompt, I ended up describing the character I probably relate to the most in digimon.
He always thought that there was something thrilling about being part of the background. Not participating or volunteering but just silently observing without being seen. To be able to think, wonder and create without having to share or meet anyone's expectations except his own. Only when out of the lime light, when utterly uninfluenced and unpolluted by the voices of the majority, could any one idea truly come alive in his mind. It was in these moments of solitude that he found the inspiration and the freedom to be whatever he wanted. And that was when he was most at home.
Yamato sat alone under large oak tree and idly fiddled with his harmonica. He had to come up with a new song, had to write the perfect lyrics, had to pester that girl who was handling the audio mixing, had to complete his science project, had to catch up on long over-due homework, had to decide which universities to apply to, had to have that serious talk with his brother… The list was endless. There were always so many little things that needed to be done according to the rules and deadlines of so many other people. And when everything threatened to overwhelm him, he chose to disappear.
He sighed and began to play the instrument that had started it all. He wasn't procrastinating as most people assumed. He was looking for that spark—the drive that he sometimes lost when life began to centre around all those trivial and mundane activities that meant nothing in the long run but had be done anyway. As he settled on a tune, his eyes lazily swept across the park.
People always acted differently when they thought no-one was watching. There was a young boy sketching on the grass. His tongue was sticking out slightly as he worked with the ferociousness and enthusiasm for colouring that only a child can possess. A mother nearby lost her temper at her toddlers, and from the looks of it, was resisting the urge to smack then both. A mousy girl in a pink, frilly dress was picking her nose by the swings. Three teenagers gossiped excitedly near the gate. A lone girl stared longingly at a couple cuddling on a park bench. An older man sat with his head bent looking defeated.
Yamato was soon distracted by another group of people—a large, rowdy one that was gathering behind him. He could somewhat make out a few exceptionally loud cries above the general commotion they were causing. He didn't need to turn around to know who they were.
"C'mon, Ishida! Hurry up! Or are you planning on sitting there on your pretty-boy ass all day?"
Yamato smiled to himself as he stood.
Solitude was his refuge. It was a breath of fresh air that he needed every so often. It helped him recharge and face whatever had to be dealt with next. But lately, life had taught him a new lesson. That being part of something—belonging and being wanted, and really making a difference to someone—could sometimes be just as fulfilling.