"Hey, can I go play badminton with my friends?" Her friends don't bother looking at me. They already know that my answer will be
"Yeah, of course. Have fun! I'll help all of you get lunch. The usual?" I ask with fake enthusiasm. Just another lunch break to spend alone.
They all mutter words of thanks while walking to the badminton court.
I can't help but envy her. She makes friends so easily, impressionable enough to get people to invite her to hangouts.
She shouldn't have to hangout with me simply because we come from the same primary school.
I look at her, wondering why she thinks that friendship builds such obligations. There are no rules to friendship.
We don't have to depend on each other. We don't have to pity each other. There's nothing we have to do.
I sigh in the dejected way I've become accustomed to before heading to the hawker centre to fulfill my duties.
~~~
I walk back with the six packets of chicken rice. There is no way to stop the thoughts racing through my mind like a turbulent current, waves crashing into rocks, leaving no space for even a shrivel of hope.
I don't understand how is it that I'm so worthless–
useless–
such a burden to every–
Always trying so hard to fit in.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I can hear the laughter now—mocking and taunting me to act out. Because if I act out, they win. But it doesn't matter anyway, they will always win no matter how hard I try.
When I finally quieten the thoughts in my head, I have arrived at the badminton court. My hands are still trembling, reminding me that all the thoughts were real, all the voices were real—very, very real.
I place the packets of food on the ground and send a message telling her that I will be going home first.
And that she didn't need to hang out with me out of pity anymore.
