A Silent Cry : CHAPTER ONE

In nights like these, in which the summer warmth coincides with the elegance of the nocturnal breeze, you can’t help but think of all that has happened during the day and wish how things could’ve gone differently. Somewhere in the world, in this overcrowded home of 7 billion people and numerous other inhabitants, there is one person who does not feel a sense of belonging. That person is me.

My name is Sole. My age is irrelevant. My story, on the other hand, is.

I believe it is no coincidence that I was named with a noun that is synonymous with the word alone. My parents thought it would mean I was unique. Clearly, that isn’t the case. I have never been one to have many friends – in fact, I never had any friends at all. Every time I spoke to someone, they would find a way to get rid of me. They either made up excuses or they just looked at me as if I was this alienated version of a human.

I was thirteen years old when I understood that something was wrong with me. Now, of course, I do not believe that I am flawed, but at that time everything just seemed so complicated. All I knew was what others told me, as I had no experience in loving myself and all that I am. One day when I went to school, a girl named Gemma made fun of me for not being the same as all of the other 13-year-olds. I was definitely more mature than my peers, and I saw no point in discussing useless debates of who wore a pink dress better and if their shoes matched their purses. No “normal” 13-year-old conversation aroused me.

My interest lied in the stars. For some reason, the stars amazed me greatly. They were all so far from us, yet they shone so magically that not just our world, but all of the other worlds could see them. I adored the night and its warriors. They made me feel as if I mattered somehow, and my life had a purpose. Every night I would look up to the stars before I slept and I would ponder on how fascinating they were.

As I grew older, I realized that being different isn’t that bad. The problem isn’t that I don’t love myself because throughout the years I learned to adore my body and personality. The problem was that I still had no friends. To this very day, I continue to refuse socializing with fake, two-faced and sheep-like people. I believe in people being their own selves and not trying to copy one another. I understand the whole concept of following trends, but what I just don’t get is why people aspire to be trendy as if their whole life depended on it.

I hope that one day, things will change. Tonight, I look up at the fearless gladiators in the sky and pray that tomorrow will bring a surprise.