(loosely based on musical play and theatrical movie Dear Evan Hansen, on Connor's perception)
So, my name is Connor. Grew up in this quiet suburbs’ town. Everyone there seemed like a copy of each other, normal as apple pie. Me? I was like a flashing neon sign in a blackout. Wild hair, clothes that never matched – you get the picture. My classmates were all about parties and football games, but I wasn't into that. I preferred hiding out in my room, the only light coming from my lamp, getting lost in fantasy worlds or sketching weird creatures in my notebook.
High school? Not exactly my jam. I was way offbeat, you know, weird interests and all. Nobody really wanted to hang out with the "odd one out." I kinda floated through the halls like a ghost, nobody even noticing me. At home wasn't much better. My parents and me, we weren't exactly close. They were busy with their own stuff, didn't seem to see how alone I felt. It kinda pushed me further into my own world, where I just… existed by myself, you know?
As time went on, being alone became my comfort zone. Not a healthy one, mind you. Started messing around with stuff that numbed the loneliness for a while. But deep down, I just wanted someone to get me, you know? To break out of this weird shell I built around myself. My hood was practically a second skin by the time I reached my locker. The usual soundtrack of jeers played behind me; a symphony of cruelty I'd grown numb to. Lunch was a warzone of assigned seating and forced interactions, a social minefield I desperately wanted to avoid. But first, I had to navigate the gauntlet of the hallway.
A crumpled piece of paper caught my eye at my feet. I unfolded it with a tired sigh, already knowing what the messy scrawl would say. "Loser." It wasn't exactly news, the word a dull ache in a place already bruised by neglect. Loser wasn't quite right. I wasn't a troublemaker, or a bully. I was just… invisible. The kind of guy who could walk through the halls and have people forget they even saw him.
Shoving the note back in my pocket, a familiar wave of loneliness washed over me. I yearned to be the one with the effortless jokes and the easy swagger. But those roles were already cast, leaving me as the understudy in a play nobody wanted to see. The bell yanked me from my daydream, its shrill tone another unwelcome reminder of the day stretching before me.
English class. Sir Fontamillas droned about Shakespeare, but the words swam before my eyes. All I could see was the swirling vortex I'd been doodling in my notebook – a dark reflection of the storm brewing inside me. It was supposed to be a cityscape, a concrete jungle I felt all too familiar with. But my hand, guided by a subconscious I couldn't control, had twisted it into something more sinister.
Suddenly, a nervous cough pierced the monotonous drone of Sir Fontamillas's lecture. I looked up to see a guy with a cast on his arm shuffling awkwardly towards my empty seat. He looked even more lost than I felt.
"Hey, is this seat taken?" he mumbled, gesturing to the empty space beside me.
"Uh, no," I stammered, surprised anyone would even consider sitting next to me.
He slid into the seat, his backpack bumping against mine. "Evan," he muttered, extending a hand with a sheepish grin.
"Connor," I mumbled back, shaking his hand with a grip that surprised even myself.
For a few moments, there was an awkward silence between us. Then, Evan cleared his throat.
"Uh, so, I saw you writing in that notebook," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Is that, like, a song or something?"
I hesitated, surprised he'd noticed. "Not really," I mumbled. "Just, stuff."
He nodded, his gaze flicking back to Mr. Molina for a moment. "Cool," he whispered back, a small, nervous smile playing on his lips.
It wasn't much, but for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel completely alone. Maybe, just maybe, this weird kid with a cast might actually see me, the guy hiding under the hood. It was a sliver of hope, a tiny crack in the wall I'd built around myself, but it was something. And in the suffocating loneliness of being invisible, even something small felt like a lifeline.
The sliver of hope I felt that day with Evan began to bloom. We weren't exactly friends, not yet, but there was a hesitant camaraderie, a shared understanding of the shadows we both inhabited. We'd pass notes in class, filled with bad jokes and awkward observations. It wasn't much, but it was a connection, a lifeline thrown across the chasm of my isolation.
One afternoon, during a stolen moment between classes, Evan blurted something out, his voice barely a whisper.
"Hey, so, your sister, Zoe…" he began, then stopped, cheeks flushing red.
My heart skipped a beat. Zoe, the girl with the fiery hair and the unexpected kindness he keep mentioning, was just for my sister? A thrill shot through me; a connection stronger than anything I'd dared to hope for. Maybe, just maybe, this newfound bond would bridge the gap between him and Zoe.
One day, after lunch, I found Evan waiting for me by my locker, a strange glint in his eyes.
"Hey, Connor," he said, a forced cheer in his voice. "So, about Zoe…"
My stomach tightened. "What about her?"
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Look, it was cool hanging out and all, but… well, this was never really about you, was it?"
The words hit me like a physical blow. The warmth in my chest turned to a chilling emptiness. I was not a friend, not even really an acquaintance. I was just a way to get closer to Zoe.
The betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow. The invisibility I'd grown accustomed to suddenly felt suffocating.
"Yeah," I finally managed, my voice hoarse. "I guess not."
He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's just…"
I didn't wait for him to finish. With a numb ache in my chest, I turned and walked away, the memory of Zoe's kindness turning into a cruel mirage. Maybe I was invisible after all. But this time, the invisibility felt tainted by a new kind of pain – the sting of a betrayal not just from a classmate, but from someone who'd pretended to understand.
One day, all the sudden, it went dark. Numb. Silent.
I looked like I did not exist in the first place. I became the forgotten shadow of the past.
No comments:
Post a Comment