by Janielle Beh on Saturday, March 10, 2012 at 9:35pm
No one notices the boy sitting alone on the bench in the corner of the playground. The other kids run about laughing and playing, consumed by the simplistic euphoria of childhood.
The boy is quiet and peaceful by nature. He is as amiable and gentle as any good boy can be. But nobody talks to him. And he doesn't know why.
Sometimes he wishes he could be like the other boys and girls, all silly and ridiculous, without a care in the world. However, before long, the boy realizes that all that just isn't who he is. For some reason, he didn't fit.
On several occasions, the boy had tried to strike up conversations with some of the kids whom he thought might have something interesting to say. But to his dismay, the conversations never went beyond the usual things children talk about. They were all very uninteresting, and much too childish for him.
Sometimes the boy felt overwhelming exasperation at his situation. There was no one else like him. No one else understood him. The adults treated him like the other kids, and the other kids treated him like an outcast. It was all a big, terrible misunderstanding. The boy wished it wasn't so.
Often, the teacher ignores him when he asks a question or makes a contribution in class discussion. The boy doesn't understand what is wrong with himself. Why do people ignore him?
Eventually, the boy decides to keep quiet. He occupies his time by observing the sights and sounds around him. He thinks a lot. Sometimes, while the teacher is talking, he starts scribbling notes in his text book. They are all his thoughts. Sometimes he wonders where all of it is coming from. In those moments, he realizes that he likes writing very much.
The moment he writes, the world around fades out of his senses. An indescribable thrill courses through him. He knows that he is alive. He feels real, and present. He feels more real than the reality he lives in. In writing, the boy knows that his voice matters. He realizes that the thing that matters most is in his heart. He no longer wishes to be like the other children. He feels free. Finally, the boy had uncovered what he had missed all along in his futile pursuit of acceptance - he had found himself.
~ J a n i e ll e B e h