Different

My heart's beating too fast when I see the gates of the school and before I know it the car door opens and I'm greeted by the school counselor who then leads me to her office.

There I stay by myself in one of the rooms, studying alone, too scared to the classroom. I hear a voice ing by from the outside and my hands shake and my heartbeat speeds up.

My mind tells me they know I'm in here even though the teachers swore to secrecy. This continues until I decide it's too much and I tell the teacher to call my mother and ask her to pick me up and she does.

I enter the enger seat and put on the seatbelt as she asks me how it was and tells me words of encouragement as the sense of safety returns to me once I'm in the oh so familiar space and she takes us home.

I open the door and see my father in the living room, his attention on the TV now on me and he asks me how it was and tells me I did good, in hopes to encourage me. It never worked before and it doesn't work now.

I walk upstairs and get ready to take a shower, the backpack off my shoulders and forgotten on the floor of my bedroom as I shrug off my clothes in the bathroom and soon after my thoughts, the sounds of running water from the shower head as well as the water that enters the drain on the floor are the only things accompanying me.

Why can't I be normal? Why is it so hard for me to do the most basic tasks? My parents no doubt wonder what happened for things to have gone so wrong with me, my older siblings a glaring reminder of how to easy things could have been had I not been included.

I can never make them proud the way the others have. I've no skills that can allow me to go into a respected career path. I can't save lives or help in any significant way. I can only offer false realities for people to escape to or weave words so it creates images in hopes to express the feelings I'm unable to speak using this voice that I despise.

:umbrella:

This was originally gonna be a vent post that I was gonna leave as a draft but then I decided to turn it into...this. I got back into storytelling and thought "Hey, I haven't written anything poetic in a while." So here it is.

I've always struggled with being different whether it be just in general or within family and it leaves me in a position where I can't help but despise my conditions and differences and by extension, myself.

Imagine a stunning black and white canvas that suddenly got ruined by splashes of colour. Some can see it as enticing and unique, others see it as an unwelcome addition that hurts the eyes due to the stark contrast.

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