ALONE

The pigtailed boy sat in the same place, every week, under the same
tree. This week was no different. Watching him, I brought out my lunch
and sat where my friends always sat. It is always comforting to be in a
group. When you are in a group, you feel secure and nobody dares to
bother you. The worries of life cannot touch you and you can leave your
life behind you for a little while. However, it is when you are alone
again the pain threatens to engulf you. It is like that of an amputated
limb. As long as you keep your mind occupied, you do not notice it's
absense. However, with time to think, the phantom pain of loss hits you
with terrible intensity.

Today however, the group was missing. In my heart I know that they are
probably sitting somewhere
else, just to avoid me. They never liked me much - they only really put
up with me because I let
them have my lunch. However, I kept up the pretence of inner security ,
sat under my tree, and 
watched all the other students as they frolicked in their meaningless
little games. 

I was about halfway through my sandwich when another group approached,
wanting my tree. As one does not argue with "tough guys", I moved and
sat alone. I have been alone for a long time now, obsessed with voodoo
dolls, sticking candles on my head, pondering the meanings of life, the
universe and everything. I guess it is my destiny to be alone.

As lunch time progresses, I begin to consider the people around me.
There were some girls nearby, sitting with their knees together,
comparing sticker collections. The boy is there of course, 
but he was always there. 

As I watch, the spatula girl comes up to him and tries to shove an
okonomiyaki down his throat. Then a purple blur hugs him from behind and
starts rubbing herself against him, shouting, "Wo da Airen!"
 As he tries to free himself, a wooden mallet embeds him into the
ground. This is followed by a whole heap of enemies, marriage proposals
and who knows what else. This happens every day.

When the bell rang, I did not move. It's not because I don't like class
- everyone falls asleep in Hinako sensei's class, though not when she
grows bigger in more ways than one. No, it's just that I do not feel
like moving. With the sun beating down on my face, my back warm, I
remained seated. The boy also did not move, embedded as he was into the
ground and with his clothes shredded.

Soon however, he got up and went to class. I got up too, following
casually at a distance, making sure that he did not see me. He was late,
as usual, and was sent to stand in the hall with buckets of water as
punishment. As I watch him standing there, I can see that his face is
forlorn and depressed. He looks like a little puppy that had been kicked
by its owner. I can almost taste the aura of depression that surrounds
him like a thick blanket. 

For the longest time I have envied Ranma, envied his life, his grace and
his martial skill. Most of all I envy his fiancee. The most popular and
good-looking person in the school, he has girls falling all over him
when he is a guy, boys drooling over her when he is a girl, and some
weirdos lusting after both. Yet as I watched him earlier, trying to get
away from that spatula girl and the purple haired babe, and now as he
stands motionless, I realize that he is lonelier than I. I am alone in
my own little world with my unattainable dreams, while he is constantly
misunderstood, blamed for things he did not do, beaten up and faced with
many more problems than should be faced by anyone. I never would have
thought that you could be alone in a group.

Maybe one day I will be like everybody else. Being yourself is not easy.
It is much easier just to blend in, to be one of the group, to be just
another face in the crowd. Maybe then I will not be so alone anymore. 



AUTHOR'S NOTES
I know this is sad. However, I am feeling sad. My life is sad. This is
also my first attempted fic. Emphasis on the word attempted. If you did
not like reading this then don't read it again. 
Comments are welcome. 

     ("`-/")_.-'"``-._                    SIMBA      
      . . `; -._    )-;-,_`)         gomen@bigpond.com
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	"Maturing:- where the fuzzy world comes into focus"