(quote from Poems )

3; someone

Markson;;

Socializing was never my thing. Even talking was never my thing.

I was that person at the back of the room, alone, while everyone was talking to someone.

At first, I felt sadness. It's just so depressing to look at their happy faces while I was left alone. But I was depressed to start with anyway. And people only makes me awkward. Afraid.

But when I got used to it, I just felt nothing. Nothing. I'm useless in a conversation anyway so why bother to talk.

Every negative thing over the other until it became an endless pile of trash. I am a trash. I should be disposed of.

"Why are you always sulking around?"

I looked behind me and was surprised to see someone so close to me.

Was he talking to me? Probably not.

I continued sketching.

"Die? Suffer? Hell? What are you trying to draw?" I didn't notice that he was already peering over my shoulder.

I was alarmed and quickly kept my sketchbook.

"They say that art can be an expression of emotion." The boy pointed out, not even minding my doubtful look at him.

When will he stop talking and just go away from me?

It has been years since I last talked to anyone but the lady who was keeping me and the stupid educator of this school.

This boy will not make me speak.

"I at art. So I'm used to expressing my thoughts through talking. We're opposites but I guess we'll both be fine, y'know?" He said, finally decided to sit down beside me.

I just stared at him. Stared. Trying to find out why he was here near me. Why he talked to me. What he wanted from me.

But I gave up when I found nothing. At least he's not talking anymore.

Days passed and he was still the same, always asking questions and then saying someth