The Outcast

 

 

Years ago, I was the one sitting there on the bench, waiting to be seen.

No one looked at me, no one cared.

It was like I wasn’t even there.

The outcast, rejected, excluded, forgotten.

Overlooked. The outlier. That was me.

 

And now I see him sitting on that bench, just like I did.

I know how he feels

Like an outsider looking in.

The ache of hearing the laughter and seeing the happiness.

The pain of no one caring.

 

I walk over to him, my friends calling to me.

What am I doing? What was I doing?

I sit beside him, saying nothing.

I want to tell him he is seen.

That I notice and that I care, but I don’t know how.

 

The bell rings, I get up, and I turn and smile.

He looks up at me, a question in his eyes.

“See you tomorrow,” I say as I walk away.

See you tomorrow?

Perhaps tomorrow I’ll know what to say.