That’s such a recurring sensation for me, that I actually panic if I ever begin to feel like I’m part of the crowd. If I’m not on the outside looking in, then something has gone dreadfully wrong.
When you suffer from social anxiety, and you are socially awkward, it seems the logical thing to do is to accept a lifetime membership in the International Introverts Society. The best thing, by far, about that group is that they NEVER have any meetings.
Of course, when you’re a writer with an overactive imagination, you might cling to some sensational reasons for why you always feel like an outsider.
I blame Star Wars.
Star Wars gets all the credit for being the movie that inspired me to become a writer. Of course, it first inspired me to run away to join the Rebel Alliance, but my overly strict stepmother would not allow me to follow that path.
Who cares if I was only 7 when I announced I was leaving home to enlist in the fight against the Empire? What kind of parent crushes a child’s dream like that?
Since I couldn’t join the Rebels in person, I did so in my mind. Writing became my escape, and my first stories were all about hanging out with Luke, Leia, and the rest of the gang to defeat Darth Vader and the Emperor.
What I rarely ever blame Star Wars for, however, was giving me hope. Ironic that a movie subtitled “A New Hope” would do that, right?
I always felt like an outsider in my family, and the flick planted this seed that maybe I was just left with this group of people by my real parents to protect me from Vader and the Empire.
I was certain that I was a Jedi, and when the time was right, my real family would come back for me. Sure, this meant I was an Alien, but that didn’t freak me out in the least. In fact, it made sense. That’s why I didn’t fit in. That’s why I was so awkward. That’s why none of the humans understood me.
I wasn’t one of them.
Occam’s Razor and all.
Over time, I came to realize that I probably wasn’t an Alien left on this planet with a group of people I didn’t relate to well, but the theory was never definitively proven wrong.
Both my parents died before I could ever confront them about it.
My Jedi powers never materialized.
Yet, I still never felt like I fit in.
The last few nights, I’ve noticed these brilliant bursts of light on the horizon as I was on my after work walk.
The light seemed to be following me, and every time I turned to it, it brightened, changed shape, and appeared to pulsate as if trying to send me a message.
Since I don’t understand the language of my actual home planet, I couldn’t decipher it, but I had a gut feeling (or was it my Jedi powers awakening?) that it was a message of hope.
My true family members wanted me to know they were on their way for me. That once they were sure they were protected against COVID-19, they would arrive in Maine to rescue me.
That’s when I realized, I had no way of ever letting my real family know that I had moved from that neighborhood in Brooklyn where they’d left me a long time ago. They’ve probably been searching for me every since.
Which would explain the numerous UFO sightings across the country over the years. Other people had seen the search parties sent by my people to bring me home.
Maybe my special someone is waiting for me in a galaxy far, far, away…