literature

Quietly

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SilverInkblot's avatar
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Literature Text

She stabbed at her potatoes with a deliberate slowness; the lulls in the surrounding conversation always came when she was in the middle of chewing a mouthful of food, and those lulls were the only chance she got to get a word in edgewise. But those chances passed by each time - someone was always faster, louder, shoving whatever tentative sentence that had been forming on her lips aside. She was too polite to say anything, instead turning back to the potatoes and stabbing a little harder, kicking herself under the table for being such a doormat.

They didn't mean to ignore her soft voice; it only kept getting lost, overpowered by the people around. She told herself that, over and over. Over and over. Over and over. But the mealtimes consistently found her sitting alone because while dealing with loneliness was one thing, having it shoved in your face was another.

In the end, it was easier to deal with it alone than to let other people talk around, over, and through her as though a ghost were sitting alongside. Besides, she was finished with her potatoes anyway.

And when she got up and left, no one even noticed.
This is how it feels to be quiet. It's always your fault when you're shy.

Another drabble. 200 words exactly. Will probably scrap later.

I could have written this in first person, but I needed the emotional distance; I'm only recently beginning to feel removed enough from the situation to write about it coherently. Though I have a feeling the people who know what it's about aren't going to be very happy with me.

Sorry guys. I just wanted you to love me as much as I loved you.


[EDIT] Why hello Cracked. You always know just what to say :heart: [link] Especially three and two.
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MeFlyingFree's avatar
I can relate to this. And don't scrap it, it is to real.