1. the common people; the masses (often preceded by the).
One glance from my third story window is enough to propel me out of my dorm room and across the campus with glee toward my 8 a.m., class.
While the morning fog is a deterrent for some, for me it’s an open invitation.
Like a welcomed smokescreen for a fugitive who is on the run, the thick fog obscures my view of other students, allowing me to stay in my own world for just a bit longer.
Most of the time I speed across the green, breezing past the hoi polloi with their expensive backpacks and bags, their canned laughter that hides insecurity beneath a thin veneer of namebrand products, spray-on tans, and heavy makeup. The guys all look the same, talk the same, and even walk the same and all the young women make themselves look generic, hiding their beauty under thick eyeliner, pigmented powders, and contouring techniques.
Being lanky has never been my great joy in life, but amidst the see of tan, toned bodies and ideal maleness–brash with a heart of stone–I stick out as an obvious pariah to the gender, maybe even the entire human race.
While their holes are hidden underneath luxury, mine are barely bandaged with cotton as I avoid eye contact and the possibility of pain at the words of another.
I stay in my bubble of solitude until I am forced to abandon it for the sake of social convention. A coerced and halted conversation here or there rids me of my protective layer and creates that uncomfortable feeling within me.
And inside I know I’m just like my peers, only they are willing to work harder to cover up those broken places, and I am not. I prefer running and hiding in the glorious fog.