Laughter

Two girls are sitting across from me on the bus and I can hear them laugh, even through my noise-cancelling headphones. I do not look at them; I'm trying to read, but I can't help thinking that they're laughing at me.

It's not like I was ever explicitly pointed at and laughed at as a child or a teenager, like in those bad Disney Channel series I watched back then, so there is no trauma response in that sense. But whenever people laugh, it has to be about me (is this egocentrism or self-consciousness?).

My greatest fear is being misunderstood, and it's common knowledge that laughter is a defence mechanism. Maybe those who laugh at me when I explain something they don't understand do it because it hurts their pride, but I'm the one who suffers the most in those interactions. What about those who laugh at me for the love of it, whether wilfully or idly?

Is there something on my face? Is my hair unkempt? Did I stain myself? Am I ugly? Fat? Do I look like a faggot? Or a tranny? Or is there no reason at all, and I was picked at random? The truth is, it doesn't matter much, at least not as much as the simple fact of being laughed at, even when I'm not.