Twelve

For the past few weeks, Alice has done nothing but talk of the transfer student. Perhaps it's because the residents of this town don't change much and everything is simply placid. Simply boring. The last new person to come here was me and I haven't turned out to be Miss Popular or anything of the sort. Maybe she's hoping this one's different, as in not like me, as in someone she can relate to, not be relied on by.

I never know why she remains as my friend. I think pity, but then I wonder how much pity one person can hold within herself. Hypothetically speaking of course, there has to be one breaking moment where said person will lash out at the good-for-nothing and perhaps we will then see her at her lowest.

I must sound like a horrible person at times. I don't know how else to think though. Maybe I am supposed to be this strange. I never feel as if my dreams are normal. If one part of my mind suffers psychosis, what gives the others immunity?

Daniel has been scarce at home. I want to know where he's disappeared to. I don't know what he does for a job, assuming he has one at all. Part of me is worried, what if he's doing something illegal or horrible. And then part of that part of me wants to find out and save him before he hits the ruins and another part just wants to keep my nose out of his business. What good is it if I get involved, won't I just become another victim, another suspect in an investigation?

If ignorance equals bliss, then I choose to be bliss and reluctantly ignorant. I do my best not to space out during class. I go home and if Daniel is there, I make small normal talk with him, and if he is not, I try to stop myself from having small abnormal talk with myself.

And so it has become that I have been living an uncertain cycle of life. I should have perfectly blended in with this town, but I have not. Yet I'm sure my days are just as routine as anyone elses. I suffer, I stutter, I sleep and dream nonsense.

I can only wait, as Alice does, until someone breaks our curse of monotony. Then who will know what happens?