Lonely

I stand at the edge of the crowd. People all gathered around, in separate groups and some large ones. One of them, the people from my year, begin to laugh. Probably at some joke. Probably at me.

"Wow, that's so accurate!"

"Ha, I know!"

Salt water begins to fill my eyes, filling and filling until they can hold no more. I try not to blink, but it is useless. The tears spill down my face, rolling and tumbling and merging, some creating new tracks down my flushed skin, some following others. My cheeks are aflame with embarrassment.

The noises of children laughing and playing all start to mush together, until they create a high pitch ringing sound. I stumble,  grabbing the iron waist-high bars for support. The world spins, and I am down. I sit there silently crying, not moving. I look like a puppet whose strings have been cut. A doll left on the shelf. A teddy slumped on the floor in an old cupboard. The loud insistent ringing of the school bell tells me it's time to get up, wipe my face and put my smiley mask to protect my feelings from prying eyes.