[ WP ] Write a story in which the main character is the only person in the world who does n't constantly speak in terrible cliches .

“ It ’ s like the blind leading the blind in here, ” she whispers. I shrug, my chin in my hand, staring at the whitehaired professor droning on at the front of the classroom. Neither the botany professor ’ s literal comparison of apples and oranges nor the plaid-skirt-and-knee-high ’ s commentary is any bit interesting to me. 
 
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 “ He ’ s just a few fries short of a happy meal, ” another student sniggers from behind us. I close my eyes and roll them beneath my lids. Just forty-five more minutes of this torture of a lecture will be over. What am I doing here? It ’ s the middle of my second year of University and what ’ s happened? Answer: Nothing. I haven ’ t found a life-lasting friend nor mortal enemy in my roommate. I have to study a rational amount of time to get decently good grades. I don ’ t even know who my dean is. I don ’ t like Frisbee or hacky sack. Okay, so I went to one toga party, but honestly, it was lame. Heck, I haven ’ t even gained the freshman fifteen. Aren ’ t these supposed to be the best years of my life? Shouldn ’ t I be finding my soulmate? Discovering the meaning of life? Changing the world? I ’ m not! Do you know why? Because those things aren ’ t real! I ’ m living in a cookie-cutter world and I ’ m the only one not made out of dough. I don ’ t have a niche. I don ’ t have a purpose. I don ’ t know what I ’ m supposed to do. 
 
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 “ In summation, an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Go the extra mile on your homework this weekend. ” 
 
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 I file out of the classroom with the other students tuning out the yammering. I just want to have a real conversation with someone. I don ’ t want to exchange platitudes about the weather, politics, or media. I want my life to be more than a Meme. Everyone here is content to live their lives as walking clichés. Happy to indulge in the shallow, the meaningless. Going through their white-picket stories without a care in the world. It ’ s maddening. 
 
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 A boy from my class follows me into the quad. He jogs to get in front of me, blocking my path. 
 
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 “ Aren ’ t you dressed to the nines? ” he said with a grin. I looked down at my outfit and back at him and squinted. 
 
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 “ Sure, uh, thanks? ” I said. “ I don ’ t know you, nor would I care to be meeting someone new right now, so, bye. Or uh, catch you later. ” 
 
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 “ Haste makes waste, baby! Slow down and smell the roses! ” 
 
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 “ Ugh, well, all work and no play makes Jack, er, Jill I guess, a dull boy! Uh, girl! Whatever! ” I push passed him brusquely. My foot catches on his and I tumble to the ground, landing hard on my hands. I grunt as a layer of skin leaves my palms to become one with the concrete. 
 
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 “ Whoa, look before you leap, honey! ” 
 
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 “ Oh, just please shut up! ” I whine as I roll to a seated position on the sidewalk. I stretch out a palm and bright pink turns to red as the blood leaks through. He joins me on the ground, tucking his sneakers beneath his knees. He takes one of my hands in both of his. 
 
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 “ Well, you can ’ t squeeze blood out of a turnip. ” His voice is softer now, unsure. 
 
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 “ So you ’ re saying I ’ m not a turnip? Great. That doesn ’ t even make sense! ” I protest. He chuckles nervously and nods emphatically, looking deeply into my eyes. I swallow, suddenly aware of my hand in his. I pull away. 
 
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 “ I should go. ” I start to get up. He doesn ’ t let go. 
 
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 “ You can ’ t teach an old dog new tricks! ” 
 
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 “ Ow! You ’ re hurting me! ” But his grasp is tight and his eyes are on fire. I settle back onto the ground. He lets go of my hand and rests his lightly on my knees. 
 
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 “ I ’ m not the sharpest knife in the drawer. ” 
 
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 “ What? ” 
 
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 “ The crayon in the box! The pencil in the desk! Not the sharpest! ” He ’ s speaking so quickly now. “ I ’ m not playing with a full deck! The lights are on but nobody ’ s home! The wheel is turning but the hamster… Is… DEAD! ” His breath shaking. I don ’ t understand. 
 
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 “ So you ’ re dumb? ” He laughs. Nods twice and then shakes his head. 
 
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 “ This is just the tip of the iceberg. ” He says. “ I don ’ t mean to jump down your throat. ” 
 
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 “ It ’ s okay. ” I say warily. Now I ’ m intrigued. “ Do you, do you want to go somewhere and talk about it? ” 
 
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 “ My thoughts exactly! ” He nods emphatically. I laugh. 
 
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 “ Okay, um, coffee? ” 
 
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 “ Common Grounds? ” 
 
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 “ Sure, ” I say, silently groaning at the name. 
 
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 We traverse the distance to the coffee shop quietly but quickly. He sets such a pace with his long legs I have to do a little skip every few steps to keep up. He buys a couple of autumn themed lattes and leads me to a corner booth. I take a sip. I don ’ t even like pumpkin spice but I feel awkward and the need for my hands to be busy is massive. His cup sits untouched. Bits of steam seeping through the lid ’ s opening. He ’ s looking at me intently. 
 
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 “ Keep your eyes open. There ’ s an elephant in the room. ” His voice is hushed even though we ’ re the only ones in the shop besides the barista with the rainbow hair. 
 
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 “ Okay, there ’ s an elephant. What is the elephant? ” 
 
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 “ Everyone has their cross to bear. ” He points to me. “ You stick out like a sore thumb. ” 
 
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 “ Gee, thanks. ” I put my cup down on the table. “ Look, I don ’ t know what you ’ re getting at but- “ 
 
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 “ Don ’ t cross the bridge before you come to it! ” He pleads. “ Slow and steady wins the race. ” His tone touches me, I calm back down, trying to understand. 
 
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 “ Okay, sorry. ” 
 
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 He points at me and says quietly, “ You stick out like a sore thumb. ” Then he gestures to himself, “ You can ’ t teach an old dog new tricks. ” I stare back at him. I want to understand. 
 
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 “ I drank the Kool-Aid, read between the lines, ” he begs. 
 
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 “ You know, don ’ t you? ” Do I dare believe it? Does this man understand? 
 
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 “ Ask me no questions and I ’ ll tell you no lies. ” He ’ s nodding and crying. He grabs my hand and kisses it, elation in his eyes. 
 
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 “ I thought I was the only one! ” I say. He shakes his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. “ I can ’ t believe it, but you still speak like them, in clichés. I feel like I can ’ t talk to anyone. ” 
 
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 “ Don ’ t look a gift horse in the mouth. ” 
 
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 “ You ’ re right, your problem is way worse. How long have you known? ” 
 
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 “ Rome wasn ’ t built in a day. ” 
 
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 “ So years? ” I ask, he nods. “ How have you dealt with it? I feel like my whole life has been one lie after another. I ’ ve been depressed, suicidal even. ” 
 
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 “ When life gets tough, the tough get going. Laughter is the best medicine. ” He says soberly. I nod. 
 
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 “ Bitter laughter is still laughter I guess, ” I say. He nods. I sigh. “ Well, what are we going to do now? This seems impossible. ” 
 
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 “ The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. Every dark cloud has a silver lining. I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. ” 

