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She sits on her bench outside, watching her schoolmates pass her by. She resents them all. They’re all happy, laughing at each other’s jokes, introducing themselves, flirting with each other. It seems so easy for them to make friends. School just started a month ago, and girls are already inseparable, posting selfies together that say “love her,” “so thankful God put her in my life.”

How do they do that? she wonders. How can they make such close relationships in such a short time? She snorts in disgust. They’ll probably hate each other in another month. She doesn’t need those kinds of friends. She doesn’t like shallow. She’s too deep for that. She hates how fake they all must be and tells herself she’s better off alone.

One day, while she’s sitting there, a girl approaches her. She knows this girl well; she’s the one who talks to everyone and acts as if she loves everybody. She’s seen many outsiders such as herself get involved in school activities and become friends with others because of this girl.

“Hey, watcha doing?” the girl asks.

She gets self-conscious. People don’t really talk to her other than the occasional “hi” or smile here or there. She mumbles off some response, and though the girl is friendly and talkative, even invites her to sit with her friends at lunch, she refuses. What would she say? None of those people know her. They’d probably wonder why she was at their table. She’d be uncomfortable and awkward the whole time and regret trying to fit in. Plus, they were all fake anyway, pretending they were all best friends. She didn’t want to hang out with people like that.

She sits there month after month alone, watching others bitterly, judging them for their happiness and feeling a self-righteous pride that she isn’t a part of that crowd. After all, isn’t it better to be alone than risk being hurt or humiliated by others?

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