The scene starts.
I am in a room.
It's filled with Gray. Beige.
Brown.
These colors. I don't like these colors.
Especially brown.
Too boring, too bleak.
Too... ugly.
I want to see colors.
I want to see
people.

I look out my window.
Not a single soul.
Everyone in this hour is asleep.
I should be, too.
However, there was no one to spectate during the day.
So I waited.
That waiting required me to see only black for a few
hours in order to skip to the next day.
There was nothing to do.

Anyway, I will look at the screen.
The screen.
The portal to everything.
I just use this portal
to see more people.
I don't interact with any of them,
I just see people.

Wow... People!
Videos, Content, Journals, Messages,
all made by people.
They're all unique,
yet feel the same.
it's like the same pattern
with different shapes.

This person has curly hair.
This person has straight hair.
This person has blue eyes that shine bright,
while this one has irises as dark as the night.
This person has a beauty that shines like
the moonlight of the ocean.
This person is ugly.
This person has a nice voice.
I think I will listen to him more.

An hour passes by like a minute. 5 hours pass like 30.
Just like that,
my alarm rings.
It's the first day of school.
I wash up and get dressed.
A good person must always look good to other people.
I walk out the door.
Time to see new people!

At the bus stop,
I see people.
They're on their phones.
No one's talking.
I won't even bother.
Who would want to speak to a spectator anyway?
I pull out my phone, too.
Looking for something to do.
Not because I want to,
But because I want to look like a person.

We all get on the bus.
I see the gray, muddy view like it always has.
Not important.
I want to see more.
I go on my phone to see more people.
Before I can,
We've already arrived!
sigh I sighed.
Maybe next time.

As I enter the building,
I see more people.
Three of them greet me.
I give a little wave before continuing on my observations.
They are my friends.
Well, they're supposed to be.
All they do is talk to each other.
Don't get me wrong, they are friends.
I understand that.
However, I wish they would pay attention to me as
I do to them and they do to each other.
I'd need to be interesting, though.
In a good way.
I wish I was interesting.
But alas, I must continue looking.

Wait...
This person...
He's different.
Why am I blushing?
Why am I suddenly getting tense?
No.
No.
Do not get hold of yourself.
A person wants a player.
Not a spectator.

See? He already has a boyfriend.
And friends.
Let's just keep looking.

I look for my classroom.
Room 306, the room of the photography class.
Hosted by Mr...
Mr...
His name is blurred out.
"Hey! You coming with me to Mr. Ovchinnikov's room?"
I turn my head to see if anyone was talking to me.
"Yeah! Here, give me a sec, I need to..."
Oh. Just a person talking to another person.
I see them walk to... room 306.
Huh.

Hopefully, this doesn't sound creepy...
I hope I don't look creepy to them,
but I followed them into the room of Mr. Ovchinnikov.
Thankfully, they didn't notice me one bit.
Plus, this isn't their first hour, from what I see.
The perks of being
a ghost, I'd say.

More and more people come in.
They look
interesting.
At least more interesting
than me.
But that's not the point.
Class is starting.

"Welcome, welcome. Welcome to your 4th year of high school.
You've made it."
Barely.
"I will introduce myself. My name is Mr. Ovchinnikov.
I am your teacher this year for photography."
His words get in one ear
and out the other.
Only 14 key points survive in my head,
Briefly.
I think that's all of them.

This person walks up to me.
"What is your name?"
My mother always called me
"Avengeline."
Stuck with it for almost 18 years.
Why not?
I will write it down on paper.

Today had gone smoothly.
Avengeline, Avengeline,
BEEP!
Avengeline, Avengeline, Avengeline.
Actually, the whole week.
No, the whole month!
I've gotten to introduce myself
to all kinds of people.
A lot of them looked the same,
but still. They're so...
interesting!

All of them were so nice,
until November hit.

I don't know what happened,
but all hell broke loose.
I thought Halloween was supposed
to scare the demons away.
Why are they still
screeching in my ear?

Photography class was fine, of course.
I got to learn how to make albums.
That was fun.
I don't know had to add personality to them
but it was still fun.

Math class was, too.
Solving problems,
Finding measurements
and having to copy them?
It's therapeutic
to say the least.

It was English class.

In English class,
we have this assignment
we are required to do
in order to graduate.
In this assignment,
we need to research
a topic
that is affecting us
greatly.
We have to present it
to the whole class, too.

But here's the catch.
it all has to be symbolic.
and it has to be in a form of a story.
The entire essay.

Now me,
I had just the thing.
Propaganda.
I went through it,
I've seen videos of it,
and it's the most I've consumed
during my not-so-subtle onlooking.

I knew just how to execute it.
I had the characters, the animals,
heck, even the actions need
extremely deep analysis
in order to understand them fully.
I was so excited. So proud.
So confident that I voluntarily asked to present first.
Ms. Richards said yes.

I go up to the board and clear my throat.
"My essay is about a daycare."
A giggle ensues.
I try not to worry about it.
Use human lingo, Ave.
They'll think you're just a normal human.

"Um, I can like, read it off my paper but
uhh...
'There are two babies.'
The giggling starts to uprise.
I'm so nervous.
My bowel system is starting to
feel like the gas station
after a long drive
out of state.

"S-so there are two babies, one is
a baby with brown eyes,
one is a baby with blue eyes.
The baby is playing with his toys..."

Giggles start to turn into chuckles.
The sweat is unbearable.
I start to get insecure of my own scent
because of the moist of my
anti-perspirant underarms.

"s-so, the baby is playing with his toys-"
"AYO WHAT KIND OF TOYS?"
That one gym bro, multiple-girlfriend comment
was enough to make the class explode.
They're laughing at me.
Laughing.
At me.

Popular girls were whispering to each other.
Smiling.
All the boys in my class made faces.
To mock me.
I even saw normal people,
rude, bitchy normal people
make the dirtiest, stinkiest looks,
mouthing the words

"Get on with it already."

I asked Ms. Richards if I could check my locker.
"I think I might have forgotten something."
"You have five minutes."
I thank the English teacher
and immediately go outside
to go to my locker.
I think I heard Ms. Richards yell,
but I couldn't tell
what she said.
What she said
didn't matter
because I was already
wounded.

I sat at lunch.
Alone.
I didn't want to talk to
anyone.
I didn't even want to look.
I looked at my phone.
Not because I wanted to look normal,
but I wanted an escape.
An escape from a burning building
I'm trapped in.
that escape?
People.
Other types of people.

I stared at my phone.
Watching. Watching.
Watching like the owl I was.
These people have so much better lives.
Alas, it became my new escapism.
People
that weren't people here.
Under the "she's so weird"'s
and "she's kinda... off"'s,
I found enjoyment
in seeing other people happy.
I even forgot to eat from the screen time
I was consuming.

History class wasn't any better.
Passing time, someone yelled at me.
Another one was annoyed by my presence.
Why?
Why do people yell?
Why do they hate me?

When I finally got into history class,
the teacher was stretching out the whole period,
so I just looked at my dark reflection
in my assigned computer.
Which, if you don't know,
if you even dare not to pay attention,
you will be called out.
you will be humiliated.
Why?
"Maybe you should've been listening."
I won't even be mentioning his name because
he doesn't deserve to be acknowledged.

My brain is completely corrupted
with what I've done.
I don't even know what happened in gym
or science.
I wasn't paying attention.
just observing.
Why did I do that?
Why did I decide to play?
I wish I did.
I wish I stayed a spectator.

This is why I never want to become
a player.
Players always put everything into
what they play.
Only to lose it all to
someone better at the end.
Not even someone better,
someone that just wants
you to fail.
Without even thinking.
I must stay
a spectator.

I go back home.
Absolutely exhausted.
But what is this?
I shouldn't feel exhausted.
I made it another day.
It doesn't feel like it.
It's like I'm in a never-ending
execution display.
Everyone,
with their words,
With their presence,
they all decapitate me.
For the heinous,
absolutely despicable crime of
being unnatural.

What do you expect me to do?
I'm not a player.
I used to be,
but then I lost.
To you.
To him.
To them.
To her.

I used to be a player,
but then I was beaten.
Beaten to a pulp.
So call me pathetic all you want,
But I'm just trying to live.
And what better way to live
than to watch others live?

They tell me to love myself,
but who would want to love
somebody who is an
absolute loser?
Who in their right, player mind
would like themselves as a player?
Who loses only a few rounds in a row
and stops playing the game altogether?
Not me, of course.

For that reason, I cannot be a player.
I will not be a player.
Why would you want to risk losing
to everything and everyone
when you could just
watch and learn?
I will not risk it.
I will not risk being embarrassed anymore.
Because I'm putting on my mask
and hiding from the world.

I am not a loser.
I am safe.
I am strategic.
I am observant.
I.
Am.
The Spectator.

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