She isn't all that

She's just too much 

My hands tightened around my bag strap. As usual, they ran cold.

She doesn't speak to anyone.

Who does she think she is?

I looked at them, my head held high—a contrast to what I actually felt inside.

When would they understand that I just can't?

They don't look away, but I do.

I lick my lip for the 365th time, my hands sweating even though they're cold.

My friend runs and joins me in my walk.

A sigh of relief escapes me.

Finally, someone I know.

She glances at me. I smile.

They don't like what they don't know, that's all.

I sigh.

I just wish they understood. I'm just a weirdo who can't speak to people.

I watch Lilith stop to say hello to some people, smiling like she wouldn't tell me why she hated her later.

Another thing I can't do.

Pretend to like a person.

Lilith laughs at a joke the girl tells her.

It wasn't that funny, but the girl looks at me, expecting me to laugh, so I smile.

They can't see that I'm trying.

They're saying their goodbyes, and I've never been happier.

"I don't like her."

I smile as Lilith speaks.

I told you she would say this.

“Then why bother putting up a show?”

“She doesn't like you either.”

“Some of us have social lives to maintain, Diane.”

I laughed.

“Oh, please. You merely tolerate them.”

She looks at me and shakes her head.

“Sometimes, that's what socializing looks like.”

I shrugged.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe socializing really did look like that.

But for me, it looked different.

It looked like cold hands, rehearsed smiles, and words that refused to leave my mouth.

They couldn't see that I was trying.

Maybe that was the problem.

They only saw silence.