Words Missing Can Hurt More Than Words Said

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Another dreary Tuesday morning, and she wishes she was somewhere else, somewhere very far away. Images of home, of another country, pass through her thoughts but vanish before they can depress her. She doesn’t like it here, and she considers January to be the ‘depressing’ month of the year. Not for most people, but definitely for her. She wants to envy them but know it is a sin and tries not to. What does it matter, anyway? No one wants her. Who cares if she sins? She knows the answer to her miserable questions, that someone does care. Someone who doesn’t attend school or go shopping or fall asleep sobbing into a pillow. But it still doesn’t make much of a difference.
The gym gives her a headache. Frenzied shouts and energetic discussions rebound off the walls and slam into her ears. The bleachers shake with footsteps as kids maneuver around books and gym bags to reach their friends. She sits, leaning against the row behind her, waiting for the daily announcements to begin. She tries to look nonchalant as if she doesn’t care that no one speaks to her, but it’s hard. It’s always hard. She wishes to talk to someone, to forge friendships from similarities and trust, but she knows they don’t care. No one bothers to include her in their conversations. She usually just sits and listens, but they don’t glance over and see her dejected frown.
Basketball again. But not an organized game; the teacher hands out basketballs and lets the kids play. She tries to find a group, but only the annoying girl from a few seats down wants to play with her. She tries to talk to the girls who had once been her friends, who might still be her friends but she isn’t sure. They’ve grown apart. She feels like she’s grown apart from everyone, a solitary island that got detached and floated off into the vast ocean. She finds a few girls, but they hardly acknowledge her presence. One of the girls has the ball, and she’s chatting with her friend, the ball in her hands. She tries to talk to the girl, to join in on the conversation, but the girl turns her back to her, oblivious. She edges to the side and makes another attempt, but the other girl moves, too, and her back is once again to her. Hurt, she finds another group. They are actually playing, and she asks to join in. One of the girls says she can play with them, but she doesn’t say anything else. The girl tries to follow along, but no one passes her the ball or tells her which team she’s on. They don’t even seem to notice that she’s watching them.
Now the girl stands alone, watching everyone chatter and run around her. They have their backs to her, their eyes averted, seemingly on purpose. She wants to break down and cry. Some more girls enter the gym, and she spots one of her better friends among them. But her friend doesn’t say anything to her; she joins the group that is playing. Even when she tries to say hello, her friend doesn’t notice.
The rest of the day continues in much the same way, especially lunch. When the girl finally comes home, she goes straight to her room and locks the door. Tears are running down her face as she signs on to AIM. She erases her buddy info and types “I could disappear and no one would care”. She knows that people will see this message, people who are supposed to be her friends. But no one responds. Frustrated, the girl angrily shrugs on a jacket and jabs the computer’s off button. Maybe now they’ll notice, she thinks as she walks down the road away from her house. She doesn’t even glance back at the place where so many play dates and sleepovers had taken place. The memories have died, and so has her spirit. Maybe her old friends will finally realize that she still exists when they see her name in the paper with the rest of the lost teenagers.