Alien

Peter learned that men should never cry or show 'weak' emotions. That's what his mother taught him since he was a little child. She'd always tell him to man up whenever he got hurt playing and started crying. His mother would call him a cry baby then she'll lock him in his room until he stops crying.

He used to get bullied in elementary school because of the way he looked. It wasn't like he was really ugly. Peter had a crooked front tooth that stood out. Not to mention his large glasses that would always slip from his nose. His classmates have always found how he looked funny, so they would send him home with a bruised face. His mother didn't like that, so she made him wear a paper bag to school for a month. "No one can come close to you or hurt you if they can't see you," she told him. As she said, no one came close to him. They were scared of him, but they'd still bully Peter. Jack, one of his classmates, threw crumpled paper at his face every day, calling him a freak. But he never said that to his mother. Peter wrote everything in his notebook, all of his anger and his sadness.

But one day, he decided to change. Peter decided to become a better person. He didn't like being bullied by others, which means that he was weak. The next day, when Peter went to school confidently. He wasn't the quiet boy anymore. Peter raised his hand during each class, which was unlike his everyday act. He was smart. He didn't think anyone wanted to hear what he wanted to say. But for the first time today, Peter wanted to be heard. 

It was the last time he remembers doing something like that. Because during lunch break, Jack and his friends turned him into a punching bag. They told him to shut up and never speak again. "No one wants to see your ugly face or hear your annoying voice," they told him. And he cried for the first time in a very long while. No one took his hands and said that it was okay, and as the bell rang, he was left alone crying in the playground covered in mud with a bruised face. Peter took the paper bag his mom put lunch in, and he cut two holes in it for his eyes, and he went back to his class. When his teacher asked him about his ruthless clothes 

"I fell during lunch. I don't have any spare clothes. ", Peter responded. The first thing he did when he went back home was writing poems.

And he kept on writing them. He placed all of his emotions on a thousand pieces of paper. Peter often cried at night. He knew his mother wouldn't notice anything the next day. Peter always keeps his head down at school. He'd never talk or speak to anyone. No one would care if he suddenly disappears. No one will notice. Why would he ever care about others when no one cares about him?

It's not like he never tried to speak. He did. But no one heard him. He would get cut off whenever he's talking like no one cares about what he says or does. Peter always thought that he didn't matter. He felt like an Alien. An alien emerged from another planet to earth, a place filled with people who never understood what Peter said or did. Where people frequently pretended he was invisible. Peter needed a friend, someone who would listen to him. But he had no one, so Peter envied the people around him; they weren't all that dissimilar to him, but why did they have everything he desired? A loving mother or a father that never left them, and a caring friend. God, he would've died to get one. As different thoughts filled up his brain, Peter fell asleep with teary eyes, once again. Promising himself he would get a friend, during lunch break the next day, Peter sat with people from his class. He didn't know anything about them except their names and that all of them loved to read poems. They can't possibly judge him or hate him. They all shared a love for poetry. They stared at him as he clutched his bag. "I-I'm Peter. We have the same art class, a-and I a-also l-l-like poetry," he said nervously. One by one, they quietly left the table. Peter clenched his bag even tighter as tears streamed down his cheeks. He bowed his head and cried silently. Peter never understood why they hated him. Suddenly, someone put something on his head. He couldn't see anymore. He tried taking it off, but the hands that were gripping on his head held him tightly in his place. "Everyone's favourite paper bag boy made a comeback!" the person said, and everyone laughed. Peter could've sworn he knew that voice well, but he couldn't focus on it. He tried leaving the lunchroom as fast as he could. Once the grip on his head loosened, he ran to the bathrooms, locking himself up in a stall and crying hard. Maybe I am an alien. Perhaps that's why no one cares or thinks about me. I should disappear from here and go to a void where nobody knows me. Somewhere remote that even if someone tried to locate me, they would be unable to do so. 'I should travel to Russia. It's the largest country in the world, it would take them months to find me, and then maybe I-' A box of chocolate milk slipped from outside the stall, then he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. He stared at the cartoon for a moment, and he quickly wiped out his tears, gripping it. Peter ran to the hallway. He wanted to see who gave it to him. But the halls were crowded as the bell rang. Everyone was trying to get to their classes. He was thankful for that person, whoever they were.

As he laid on his bed recalling today's events, Peter recognised the voice. It was Jack's. 'No wonder.' Peter scoffed at the thought of it. It was always Jack anyways. 

It kept on going like that for weeks. The person who gave him the chocolate milk never stopped giving it to him whenever something terrible happened to him at school. He was thankful for it. It was funny that a person he never met could comfort him with a chocolate milk box better than supposedly the closest people to his heart. Peter would sit in the stall, putting an ice bag on his bruised face every day as he waits for that person to arrive. He was curious about them, always wondering the reason behind their action.

Peter would stare at his ceiling, thinking about that person every day, until his thought drifts him to sleep.

For some reason, he had a specific person in his mind, but he never dared to confront them about it. That chocolate milk was a comforting thing to him. It made him think that someone cared about him, even if it was in secret. It was a girl from his English class, whom he didn't know her name. She'd sit in the corner of the course by the window. He barely heard her voice before as she would always keep things to herself. The girl wore headphones every day, staring at the window as she waits for the class to finish, so she can disappear in the crowds. Just like him, she was also a lonely soul.

Because it was a Monday, Peter went to school early. The first period was English; he wasn't going to attend the course anyways. Placing chocolate milk on the girl's desk and a note and quietly leaving the classroom and heading to the rooftop. A side of him secretly hoped that she would just throw them away, but he wanted to talk to her at least once in his life. Peter stayed there for a while, when he almost lost all of his hope, heading towards the rooftop door, it cracked open. He was surprised to see her standing there.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, "You're Peter, right? I'm Meline." 

"I-I-I did," Peter responded. 

"Cool, so what is it that you wanted to say? My class is about to start, and I really have-" 

"Thank you." He immediately said, "For helping me, I mean." They were both quiet for a while. Meline stared at him before exclaiming.

"I don't recall helping you with anything. I just heard the bell; I have to go." and she rushed inside the building.

'You're so dumb, Peter, now she thinks that you are weird. As if I needed to add more names to the list of people that hate me.'

He then placed his hoodie on his head, lowering it as he walked through the school hallways into his next class. He tried not to think of anything, wishing that he could stop his brain from overthinking stuff. Peter laid his head on the desk and fell asleep. A chocolate milk carton was placed on his desk, with a note near it to his surprise. 'Your welcome:), PSA. It doesn't matter what others think about you. You should always be proud of yourself. By the way, I would love to read your poetry one day,' it said. And for the first time in a very long while, he smiled.

Perhaps Meline hated interacting with people a lot. Maybe that's why she was always alone; she didn't like talking to people in person. In one way or another, they were both alike. For once in his lifetime, Peter loved the way he looked. He wasn't ashamed of his face. Not caring about what others thought about him. He took a few of the things he wrote, placed them in an envelope, and put them on her desk before the next English lesson. He completely ignored his classmates whenever they tried to tease him about something. He'd always shun them, but this time, he didn't get hurt by whatever they said. Meline said she loved his poetry. She thought he would be a great poetry writer in the future. They passed notes often. Sometimes they would talk on the benches outside, but they usually hung out outside school. Peter finally had a friend, someone how truly understood him. He was finally happy.