• My eyes appear fixated as I aimlessly stare at a large pile of unaligned textbooks, pressed up against the empty white walls. Although I appear to be so interested in these objects my mind is somewhere else. Miles away in fact.

    Sometimes, you tell yourself, over and over again, sometimes endlessly, that are not what you think you might be. There’s a logical explanation. You could make this all go away if you tried hard enough. Its possible that the fact that your an incredibly secretive and often overlooked person is contributing to why you long to be accepted, and long to be seen as someone who is different. Someone who stands out and is charismatic and interesting. That’s the opposite from all those clones that pass you by in the corridors and out on the streets. Your better than them. And one day you’ll be bigger than them. You’ll be powerful. They’ll be beaten. And you’ll finally have a name. You’ll be a brand; a face with a name. You’ll finally be complete. Everything slotting into place like a set of drawers. You won’t be that person you once were. The one that floated around, and stood on the sidelines, living their life on the periphery; almost like a ghost.

    But why are we so desperate to find ourselves ? Know what makes us tick. It’s because we’re struggling. Drowning. Searching for answers that simply aren’t there. But why do we put ourselves through such rigorous mental torture ? Because when the overwhelming sense of inadequacy comes flooding in and the ironic fragility we contract flourishes, we become lost. And what we thought we once knew appears to be quite the opposite.

    As all of those thoughts sloshed round in my mind like my head was a wine glass of confusion I suddenly snapped out of it. I took deep, heavy breaths as I slowly looked around. Speckled-plastic coated desks, a large whiteboard hit by the blinding light streaming through the open blinds and the muffled sounds of laughter. I was at school. Geography to be precise. I looked to my right. My friends. Chatting. Laughing. Not a care in the world. They didn’t seem to have problems like I did. They didn’t get anxious like me, or dwell on such emotional and life changing issues. They just lived for the moment. Worried about what was happening now. Not like me. I sit in class and daydream. Thinking about the future. Hoping it gets better. Praying, that I’ll find the answers.

    I watch their conversation, but kind of mentally block out the sound. Trying to observe; get inside their heads even. Try and work them out. Dehumanizing them in a way as i envisaged them as sort of jigsaw puzzle. The more i tried to work them out, the more I insecure I become. I’m not like them. I’m different.

    Different; a word that I would have longed to be described as. But the more you yearn for individuality, the more alone you become. You slowly realise that your all your relationships are built on lies. Your friends and family, they will never understand you. But however much you think you might like them too, you just can’t handle the pity.

    So what will you do ? Go out into the world and scour for people you connect with ? People like yourself ? Who knows. I know I don’t.