Everyone else is moving, thought the man. Maybe I should be moving too.
It happened at night, at a Village Fair, where people wandered about, their children dashing around.
They have games, shows and rides. I don’t have one. I don’t belong.
The man compared himself to family units, accelerating his heart rate and inducing thick beads of sweat over his body.
People are dancing now. They are dancing and laughing and talking with friends. I don’t have one. I don’t belong.
It was a cold night, an open sky in a muddy park, and the wind tore his wet body.
They know I’m alone. They know. They can see me. They are avoiding me. I don’t belong.
He believed a woman stood her family before him to gloat. He was convinced if he spoke, they would reject him. He knew they all saw the freak that no-one would talk to.
It’s not true.
He knew that all this was probably untrue. This self-arguing didn’t stop the idea, or them feel less real.
The evidence is here. I am alone and I don’t belong.
He could force himself to dance into the mob or intrude into their conversations.
Would that ruin their fun, said the brain.
They say to get out of your comfort zone, and they say to be true to yourself.
Which of these is right?
Which am I doing?
Am I doing it all wrong?
I must be doing it all wrong.
He decided he was too cold to make good decisions.
Look at everyone else’s joy.
Too head locked to make good decisions.
I am the idiot who can not fit in!
Too concerned with opinions to make good decisions.
I am a loser.
He left toward the things he could control, warmed himself in front of a fire and wrote a story.
He felt much better.