The Pretender She sighed and continued toking on her cigarette. Once again she had failed to even reach 200,000 on a game where her friends brag about reaching 10 million. It wasn't really the game that bothered her; more what it represented. Her inadequacy. Her failure to achieve what her peers could. Her hatred for not fitting in. That's what her #life was, more than anything - a constant battle. A battle to wear the right clothes, say the right things and be the right person. She tried again at this game that had become so serious to her. Less and less like a game and more and more like her entire #life. She didn't enjoy playing this game but, she tried again. A thought came over her and with a wave of self hatred she sped herself off the edge of the wall - into the lava that awaited beneath. Still playing the game, of course. The lava was like an abyss; ready to drag those unfortunate, lost human beings down; where their disguises were no more and they were revealed as fakes. She looked down at her bright pink, flowery 'rara' skirt and sighed once again. Her muscular legs did not suit this style, neither did her person. The truth was, she didn't know who her person was. It's not as if she was a Tom-boy dressing as a girly girl. It wasn't that simple. No, she had no idea who she was: what she was. All the categories of people that there are in the world and she couldn't fit herself into any of them. She didn't belong anywhere, she was a fake. Her whole #life was a game- a game that she hated and couldn't wait to end.