I hang back.

I settle for the quiet corner.

I tell myself I've got something worth saying.

I want a seat at the table,

a nod, a glance, with people that don't pull away.

But I'm afraid.

Afraid that if I speak,

they’ll hear nothing worth keeping.

Afraid they’ll shrug, or worse remind me

I was never one of them anyway.

So I stay quiet.

I listen.

I let the moment pass.

Even when the silence hurts more than being ignored.

Because lurking is easier

than proving to everyone and to myself

that I was never going to belong anyway.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

Name: Lira Jones

Pseudonym: Alia S.

Age: 29

Height: 5’6”

Hair: Dark brown, usually in a messy bun or left loose and unstyled

Eyes: Hazel

Appearance: Jeans, sweaters, tote bag always slung over her shoulder with a Steam Deck and notebooks tucked inside

Occupation: Writer, Novelist

Hobbies: PC Gaming, writing, and reading

Lira grew up moving from place to place, her father rarely able to hold steady work. She often ended up the outsider, and lasting friendships were rare. After her mother’s passing, she drifted for years before finally settling in Chicago.

She made her living through tech support and building custom gaming computers, a path shaped by her lifelong connection to video games. Writing, however, has become her true outlet. Over the years she has published nearly fifty books, but her readership has remained small, inching forward only gradually.

Though dedicated to her craft, Lira wrestles with doubt. She longs to connect with other writers, to feel part of a community, but her fear of rejection often holds her back.

And if she quit? They wouldn't even notice she was gone.