Autumn's Monologue.

I can hear them, laughing and mocking the family sitcom currently on television. They do this every Friday after school. They come home, drop their bags in my brother’s room and then invade the living room.

I come home—no matter what day if he’s with my brother—and go to my room. They try to get me to socialize with them but I can’t. I just can’t do it. It’s not that I have problems; I wish I did have something wrong with me so I could blame it on that.

I’m just a kid in love with his brother’s best friend. There I said it; I’m in love with my brother’s best friend—yes it’s a guy, yes I’m a guy too. I hear the faint mumble of conversation; their tones are low so I can tell it’s something serious they’re discussing.

I strain my ears as I sit in my doorway, hoping to catch even a small glimpse of what they’re talking about. Then I hear it, my name, my name—why are they talking about me?

Do they think I’m some weirdo who’s anti-social? That’s not far from the truth. Do they really want to hang out with me or just bring me out to mock me as they do everything else? They don’t realize how cruel they are sometimes.