It happened again.
She had been waiting for the night out with her friends. She had been enjoying the thought about long drinks, soft talks, and easy-going moments on the cosy sofa in the darkness of the bar.
It all had happened. The drinks were icy and cooled the heat of the throat. The murmur of her friends cuddled her and she found herself laughing at their witty remarks of utterly meaningless matters.
Then it happened. She felt it painfully. The feeling was familiar, felt so many times before, in so many places. So many years, always the same.
She was an outsider. She had no need to reveal herself. She had no desire to know more about them. The chitchat and the small talk made her feel dizzy and the meaningless of everything hit her hard in the face.
She left, no, she escaped, and she knew that once again they stayed on, maybe speculating a bit of her whereabouts, but finally forgetting her. That was she, they’d say. Not a social being, but pleasant enough.
In small bits. For a while.
Hi Susu! You probably didn’t notice, but I was absent for a while… ;)) Anyhow, I missed your posts and comments, so I’m trying to catch up what I can!
ReplyDelete«Not a social being but pleasant enough»; OK, I'll take that! KIS is also great!
Hope you have a great weekend!
Blogtrotter
That was a good story. It´s an art to control yourself when you are in a wrong place and you have to try to figure out what to do.
ReplyDeleteI did notice, Gil, looked at your blog the day before yesterday and saw Genova.
ReplyDeleteYes, chrome3d, it's truly an art of everyday life.
Maybe it's just me, but could it be the Dora the Explorer hairdo that keeps the poor soul on the outside? I like it myself ... of course, I'm on the outside too! :D
ReplyDeleteBad hair day, you suggest, Mick? Could be, but on the other hand, I believe it's the bad brain day she's suffering of.
ReplyDeleteShe may have her place somewher else.
ReplyDeleteI believe so too, HPY.
ReplyDelete