Every time there was a birthday party or random house party, she prayed that the cool kids would invite her. She knew she was fat so her boring clothes would never get her invited. Pleasant shock hit her when one of the normal sized girls asked her to join them. “Oh. My. God.” What would she wear that would work with that shape underwear thing that was supposed to keep her ugly stomach in? After school, she went to the mall and tried on everything in her size. Every time she looked in the mirror in the fitting room, she hated herself.
Her friends told her to play hard to get. “Men don’t like women who pursue them,” they explained. She was confused. “So I’m supposed to hide my feelings?” Her friends laughed. They told her that nobody liked desperate women. So she sighed. Then she decided to change the topic to shoes and bags – that wouldn’t require hiding emotions she hoped.
She was too comfortable. The habit of being alone had become an addiction. Oblivious to the couples and groups around her, she enjoyed her personal little bubble. It wasn’t as if she had no friends. It was more like they were just somehow in her life, like an accident. One fine day, the bubble burst. Realisation made her see the beauty of togetherness and the human need for company. But the bubble came back to surround her just minutes later – she craved her own space like a bookworm needed books.