Notes to a Stranger

A few nights ago I made this story. It was called Honesty. It was some load of cocky crap about how I'm good at everything. It didn't bother people on Quibblo, but I came to school this morning and saw the effects. Let's just say I was avoided by my friends for the beginning of the day. I apologized, and now the story is deleted. I figured I'd make up for my idiot rudeness with this. Notes to a Stranger.

Chapter 2


by: Hyouka

Username: QuoteGal
Nickname: Eunoia

“Who am I? That's a good question. I'm still trying to figure that out myself. Today, I'm nobody. But someday, I will be somebody. No, I'm not super athletic or talented or outgoing; I'm just me. The truth is I'm average; I like being average. And maybe that's not such a bad thing. I like books, but they're not my life. I take Karate, but it's not my favorite activity. I'm super sensitive, overreactive, and impatient. I have no idea what to do with my future. I just want to be happy, and things can get kind of hard when you don't know how to be.”

Dear Lila, AKA QuoteGal,

I stumbled upon your page just the other day while searching for somebody to speak to. I would have passed you by but I noticed a certain sentence in your About Me that made me stop in my tracks.
The truth is I’m average; I like being average.
Not something that I often see. It seems these days that everybody is searching desperately for that thing that makes them unique, that thing that makes them different from everybody else. But not you. You’re searching for what you’re meant to be – you’re searching for who you are. But even through this it doesn’t bother you to be average.
If there’s one thing I can tell you now my dear, it’s that ‘average’ is not a word that I would use to describe you.
I don’t often take time to read stories on Quibblo, you see. They don’t ever seem interesting enough when I begin reading. I see so much fanfiction I’ve stopped bother to click on anything any longer when I find it in my inbox. But when I found your page and saw the emotion in your about me, I figured you had an imagination on you, and I’m quite glad to say that I was right.
I read all three of your stories, but the one that really stood out to me was entitled Broken Clocks. A short story, “written for school, but I decided to post it on Quibblo”, and my dear I am glad that you did.
The story is written from the point of view of an adult, whose father died when he was little and whose mother has lost the will to live any longer. It’s dark, somewhat gruesome, sad, and longing, and is the most emotion-packed short story I’ve ever read on this website. The talent found on Quibblo makes me smile sometimes, and this certainly did.
I can honestly say that you seem to be an extremely lovely person, Lila. It made my day to discover your page. You seem so sweet, in a simple, antique sort of way. I hope I can talk to you sometime.

Best regards,


An excerpt from Broken Clocks:
"There are those who have the privilege of taking love for granted, whom have families and friends and are constantly surrounded by outstretched and loving arms. But what happens to the rest of us? The ones who are left alone, unloved, untouched? I was a broken clock at the back of the shelf, counting down the time and yet forevermore stuck on the same hour."

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