The Burden of Befriending Brooklyn

“You’re so…” my friends always tell me, struggling to come up a word that encapsulates everything odd about me. “I don’t even know.” They always finish off, throwing their hands in despair yet again. “Why can’t you just be like everyone else?”

I wish I was able to tell them the answer. If they’d only know how many times I asked it myself. But truly, why couldn’t I be like everyone else? Care about my clothes, my makeup, how many friends I have, what people think of me and all the other things normal teenagers do.

But what is normal? That would always be my second question after failing to answer the first. What made my rowdy, shallow, forever-shopping, non-stop-love-seeking (is that a term?) friends more ‘normal’ then me? To answer that, I’d probably have to tell you what I do. Which I’m more than happy to tell you, if you’re interested.

Firstly, I write. Like all day. Stories. Poems. Diaries. Even about a heavy dose of inspiration a trash can once gave me. Yeah…

And if I’m not writing, I’m reading or assembling 5,000 piece puzzles or counting the stars or daydreaming about everything and anything beneath and beyond the sun. That doesn’t sound that bad, right?

“Not bad,” I can hear someone say, "but it sounds like your describing your grandmother." But what’s wrong with that?

"Everything." My friends say. "Everything. You have to act your age or else...

"or else..." I echo their last words.

There's silence. A silence that morphs into awkwardness as it trails over a half a minute.

"You won't have friends," One of my friends, my better one, drops so suddenly that my jaw falls.

"Sorry." She says immediately, her long-nailed fingers squeezing my shoulder. "I shouldn't have said that, but someone had to and I thought it should come from someone who cares about you and has your best interest in mind."

Best interest in mind. The bad part of me wants to snort and walk off, but the truthful part of me recognizes the intsy-tinsy bit of truth in there and just shrugs.

"Look, it's not like were going to drop you; We're beyond that, but the other's agree that you're... you're becoming sort of a drag." She blurts, afraid if she doesn't say it now, she never will.

So this was a group discussion. Planned. As if they got together one day with the goal of fixing the problem called " The Burden of Befriending Brooklyn." She suppressed a chuckle. It would make a good book title.

"Brook?"

"Sorry. Was just thinking about something." She looked again at her friends.

"You see? we can't even talk to you without you wandering into planet writing!" She complained amicably, trying to lighten the mood that had become so heavy in the last few minutes.

Planet Writing. Another good one. She was starting to like this, but physically stopped herself from trailing off again, by running her twig-like fingers through her matted hair. She owed them that much.

"Listen, thank you so much for having my best interest in mind, but I think my best interest is doing what I'm doing. So if I'm being a drag by being me. I guess we should be saying our goodbyes." I say so matter of factly (is it a word?) that all my friends, all four of them blink at the exact same second. I give each of them. Linda. Mal. Charlotte and Eloise their own peaceful look, lingering on Charlotte a little longer than the rest. "That doesn't mean we can't talk, but you don't have to invite in me all the time or pull me out. A nice update would be appreciated, if that's not a burden." It's weird to talk to my friends like that and I start feeling that hot feeling I know brings tears out. "Thank you."

They all shift uncomfortably in their places and I return their awkward gazes with a smile. They all look away, but Charlotte suddenly comes in for a hug and fling my arms around her. For just a second, I think this is all a joke, but then Charlotte pulls back. "Sorry, I don't know what got over us. Let's just erase what happened, kay? this is dumb. Of course you're not a burden."

I see tears and wipe it. She gives a half laugh.

"No, actually, I'm fine. I'm okay. In the last few minutes, I think I made peace with the fact that I'm 'not normal'. I think I like writing planet more than earth." Brooklyn winks.

Charlotte smiles. "Okay."

And when she turns around, all of them. Linda. Mal and Eloise are smiling too.