What I've always thought..to Imagination's child

It's not uncommon to find a character in stories that are selfish, and think only about themselves, and is so annoying when everyone just wants to kick her butt and tell her that she should be more aware of others. But isn't it normal for everyone to think of themselves? The feeling of being left out when people talk about things outside of your world... like, in Life's Story, you're never the main character.

In Terry Pratchett's Monstrous Regiment, the story follows a girl called Polly who enters the army to find her brother, but in the end, the one that history would remember was a fellow 'soldier', a girl called Alice who had a magical connection with a dead woman once revered in the country, and ends up leading the country.
In page 473, where she's having a conversation with her sergeant:
'Funny thing, really, ' she said, at last.
'What's that, Perks?'
'Finding out that it's not really you. You think you're the hero, and it turns out you're really part of someone else's story. Wazz - Alice will be the one they remember. We just had to get her here.'
[Before all of them found out that they were all girls, they called the girl Alice, Wazzer.]

Isn't it weird? Because I'd like to be the main character of a story too, but there were so many times when I was tapped awake that I didn't know everything about everyone like a main character should.

Perhaps, I'm also confusing this with how a good friend should behave like? I have quite... strange ideas about how good friends should be like, I guess. I always thought a good friend should know how you would react, a good friend should be able to answer all the questions that other friends ask, and a good friend should know everything about you! But I'm starting to think; maybe this is just a romantic idea about what friends should be like. Because in today's society, everyone keeps to themselves, and nobody wants to say things differently. Individualism is so rare, and everyone wants to keep their opinions to themselves. [I hope Beecheng and Denise are reading this; the two of them hardly ever tells me what they think.]



Imagination's child:
The physical education class was tasked to practise for the 2.4 kilometre run today. As usual, the whole class groaned. We started out together, and after a while, everyone was separated, with wide spaces in between. I had started out alone, and was still jogging alone, so that I wouldn't slow down any of my friends. Jogging slowly as I rounded a corner, I saw an unbelievable sight.

Roxana was skipping along the path, her eyes closed and her ears filled with earphones. She was actually enjoying this! So fascinating, the sight of the usually quiet, calm and composed Roxana that I didn't see the bicycle coming behind her until the very last few seconds. The cyclist clearly meant to avoid the crazy girl dancing along the pavement, but with a skip, she brought her body so close, oh so close to the bike, and finally saw the bicycle, about to crash into her. I'm not sure what I saw, but if my eyes didn't deceive me, at that moment, she smiled, just a little bit, before she put her hand on the bicycle's basket and lifted herself into the air and over the bicycle. A perfect cartwheel in the air.

The bicycle, off-balance because of her weight, was dangerously careening down the slope and towards the road, the cyclist pulling the brakes in a terrified attempt to avoid the road and incoming cars... and me. But her horrified expression was the key to telling me that the brakes were broken. There was no screech from the bike, and I braced myself with the impact. Extending my arms, preparing to help the cyclist stop, out of the sides of my eyes, I noticed the tiny detail at how Roxana was standing, horrified at what she was about to cause. Can't bother about small details, my brain whispered. Get ready to make use of your training!

My hands grasped the handlebars, my legs extended to make full use of whatever friction and balance I could find. I pushed against the bicycle with all my might, and sliding a little, the cyclist and I stopped, a perilous ten centimetres from the road. We stopped in that position for a while, both making sure that the bike was at a complete stop.

I let out a relieved sigh, and then looked up at the cyclist. Wow... she sure was pale. Roxana ran up from behind, shrieking, ‘Are you two okay?!’ The cyclist shook out of her daze, and kept apologizing, shuddering at what would have been. Then she noticed that her handlebars were slightly bent, thanks to the martial arts training I had been undergoing. More importantly, what about Roxana?! That girl, bowing and apologizing repeatedly, what the heck was she doing, and how in the world had she managed that?

My glare brought her apology up short, and she gave me a timid smile. Where did that bold confidence of hers go to?! I’m looking for answers, and that girl had better have a good one!

Just something random I thought up while trying to go to sleep. I got the image of a girl using one hand to do a cartwheel into the air to avoid a bike, and came up with this.