[ WP ] Throughout your childhood you are made fun of for `` making up your own language '' , till Earth is contacted by another race and you are the only one that understands them .

When I was 10, I made a language that I would speak to others when I feel happy or content with whoever I was speaking with. Naturally, I only spoke with him in that way. He is the one who cares for me and talks to me when I am lonely. He gave me comfort when there was none. He gave me hope when everything seemed bleak. 
 
 Then he left. 
 
 Back then, I did n't know what to do. I felt lost, confused. No one knew about him and they humored me saying that he left for something else to do. I knew they were lying. They were always lying. Always telling me that my parents would come back. 
 
 They never did. 
 
 So I grew up without a friend nor a foe, just lonely. I laid in bed andcried myself to sleep hoping he would come back. I lived my entire life hoping that he would come back. He always came when I needed him the most. So, why did n't come for me all those times? I started to think that I was mad, crazy! I went to the psychiatrist and asked him to remove this part of me, this crazy part. 
 
 I realized that was a mistake I would regret for a long, long time. 
 
 One day, I woke up and looked out of the window. I saw people, lots of people, running. Screaming. Dying. I saw fires, buildings destroyed, children being crushed by the stampede. 
 
 I saw him. 
 
 I instantly ran out my front door, hoping that it was him. I was crying tears of joy, being reunited with the one I always loved. I hoped I would be cared for again, loved for again. 
 
 It was n't him. 
 
 I stopped. Who is he? He looks like him. I went to him and tried to speak to him. I said hello. He turned towards me and spoke. 
 
 `` Who are you?'' 
 
 It was the same language. The one he taught me. 
 
 I thought only he and I spoke like that. I thought I made it. I created it along with him. He gave me ideas and I would write them down and make new letters and words. I learned this made-up language so that I could speak to him whenever I wanted. 
 
 It was n't made-up. 
 
 It was a real language that these...'aliens' spoke. I said that I am O. 
 
 He spoke back. 
 
 `` You know our language?!'' 
 
 `` Yes'' 
 
 `` But how?! None of our people came here... wait a minute... Oh no... **OH NO! ** Retreat! Retreat! He's here! **RETREAT! **'' 
 
 They retreated and left that moment itself. People praised me as a hero. Their savior! The presidents of the world gave me medals, money, fame. 
 
 But I was still lonely. 
 

