Laughing along while losing myself in the crowd

¶ … People

And somewhere between the time you arrive

And the time you go

May lie a reason you were alive

But you'll never know.

Jackson Brown

A lone cloud drifted across the deep blue sky briefly casting its shadow on me as I sat reading a book on a wooden bench in the middle of campus. Countless people of all sorts and colors scurried by engrossed in their iphones, tablets and other technological pleasures oblivious to the beauty of the day. The flowers were vibrant in their spring dress and the scent of freshly cut grass wafted through the air.

As the hour turned a group of my friends arrived as if on schedule (after all it was Wednesday) and gathered around to kill their time.

"Whatch ya reading?" asked Bristol between smacks on her gum.

I said, "The Great Gatsby."

"I had a date with the Great Gatsby last night!" shrieked Claire.

Everyone laughed as if this were the funniest thing on Earth. So I did too. But I don't know why.

We had met each other in high school, forming a clique that had extended into collage. The foundation of the friendship was based on a mutual love of laughter, gossip, and the creation of a common feeling of social superiority by speaking despairingly of "those people."

"What's Gatsby's major?" Chantal asked getting straight to the point.

"Physical Education!" quipped Bristol. And everyone laughed.

"Liberal Studies." Claire reluctantly admitted.

"Loser!" said Bristol and Chantal in unison, laughing hysterically.

I hope she'll be a fool -- that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.

Ozzy Osbourne

The library stood before the group: a concrete reminder of the best thoughts and ideas of the human race. No one made a move to enter. The boys puffed up, and the girls preened, each quickly sizing up the other and assessing the possibilities. I preened too. The volume became louder and more chaotic. Voices talking over each other, straining to be the cleverest, most listened too, competing for and an audience.

And then the most unusual thing happened. Their voices began to fade away. I began to fly. From above I clearly saw the gaggle of girls, faces painted, clothes tight, eyes pleading desperately for recognition and acceptance. The boys flexing and posturing; it was an orgy of pheromones.

And I was still there too, laughing in concert with the others for no apparent reason.

And then I could see inside the library. I saw Shakespeare and Wordsworth, Einstein and Edison, Curry, Joan of Arc, Nightingale, Lincoln, daVinci, Michelangelo, Locke, Franklin and many of "those people" standing in a group preening and flexing for each other, mocking our existence.

Either you think, or else others have to think for you and take power from you, pervert and discipline your natural tastes, civilize and sterilize you.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Then I was back in my body only I was a curly-haired, awkward, scrawny girl wearing oversized glasses again. As I watched, my friends grew much older like time-lapse photography, and I saw them in their twenties, thirties, forties and beyond. And they were still standing outside the library, only the make-up was heavier.

"Bristol, Claire, Chantal!" I yelled, but they couldn't hear me.

"Did you see Isabelle this morning? Did you see what see was wearing?" More laughter. Only I did not laugh with them this time.

It then occurred to me that they were still the same.

And I laughed.

I'm not going to change the way I look or the way I feel to conform to anything.

I've always been a freak.

So I've been a freak all my life and I have to live with that, you know.

I'm one of those people.

John Lennon

Then I was back in front of the library with my friends.

"What are you laughing about?" asked Claire. They were all looking at me.

Only I didn't answer. I just smiled and turned and walked up the steps into the library.