STORY: Andy The Island


I think I was just made fun of. I'm not entirely sure. I know that sounds really sad as it is but it gets worse. I was laughing along with them the entire time. It was only after the laughing stopped did I have time to realize what was happening. They were laughing about me not having friends. They were joking about it but if you read between the lines, it was like they were saying I was such a sucky person that's why I had no friends.

Ever since, no one ever really wanted to be my friend. I know a lot of people who everyone wants to be friends with. They're the ones people flock to when it's time to pick buddies for the school trip or partners at a game. The ones you want to sit with at a party or chat with during breaks. The only time people would flock to me was when the activity involved grades or deadlines. People go to me when something needs to be done, never just because.

I can't blame them, though. I didn't make liking me easy. In fact, I think I made it so difficult no one dared to try and like me. I didn't do any of that consciously, if that even matters. Then again, I also didn't do much to make myself likeable when I was made aware of how people perceived me. I just continued to be me. And unfortunately, "being me" is only positive when the "me" being referred to is a nice person. And today, I've finally accepted that I'm not nice and I'm never going to be nice. But even more unfortunately, I realized that that acceptance doesn't mean I'm going to be okay about everything... because I'm not.

So that leaves me here, sitting alone on the concrete seat at the park during high noon (I am literally typing this as my butt overcooks!). I just analyzed everything that I could from the 5-minute laughing spree from 10 minutes ago yet my analysis has left me right where I was before - alone. I've never hated being alone. I love it, even, on most days. But maybe that was just me trying to fight emotions with mind power. Maybe that was how I coped with being alone that I couldn't tell what I think and what I feel. Or maybe that was me taking my dad's words too seriously, "Mind over matter." But what gives, mind? Why can't you help me get over this matter? I can't wait to believe I love being an island again. Hurry now.

Please.

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