3. Alessia.

154 8 4
                                    

Her name was Alessia.
She dreamt of a world where facades were a fiction. She dreamt of a society that listened and understood. She dreamt of acceptance, of love and of happiness.
But she knew better.

The classroom buzzed. There was noise everywhere. Her peers interacted. Alessia watched. Intently. She was fascinated by the workings of souls of different kinds. Most laughed and pretended involvement in each other's lives, only staying together so as to have a little company in this phase of their journey.

Some sat deep in thought. She spoke with them sometimes. They were interesting and so were their thoughts.

Some fascinated her - with their intricate weaves of thought, their own little pools of experience. Those were the ones that drew her.

But all her peers were wrapped up in themselves. They never observed like she did. They didn't try to understand each other deeper than what was required to survive in student society.

She was perceived as an overly enthusiastic, intelligent girl, who was ecstatic about every little thing. It never failed to amuse her, how people just accepted what they saw on the surface and refused to delve deeper. In a way it was a blessing, in another it hurt, that people never actually cared.

Like everyone else, she had a facade to help her survive in company. But her facade was her skin. She was written in a language that anyone could read - if only they tried. She was not like the rest, with their elaborate illusions and varying personas.

She was happiest with her friends, her books, her art and her music. It gave her a sense of belonging - something so beautiful and rare.

She and her friends would sometimes lapse into discussions about life. She'd always say this when it came to society -
"I'm a threat to society and its perfect descriptions of people. I'm a freak, or so they say. I don't know anymore. I can't understand what they want. I don't know how to be for them to realize who I am. I can't handle crowds because apparently, crowds don't like me or want to give me a chance. I don't know"

MusingsWhere stories live. Discover now