Letting it Out
I have long battled with the concept of being understood, of fitting in, of knowing who I was. I don't think I ever quite fit in anywhere. Writing this I fear that perhaps you will see me painting myself as a victim and feel sorry for me. Anger towards me or even saddened, but I grapple with emotion because emotions have long been my friend and foe. They stay close and at the same time so distant. They sit in my throat waiting to burst out. but sometimes, they wait so long I swallow them and hurl them out at the most inopportune time. But they come and they go. Alien and unnoticed. Growing up I was different. A kid in a township, living a double life. Shackled to the dreams of my father and my mother's incessant search for something different. Shuttled to and from private school surrounded by pale glowing skin and golden tresses endless in their length and shedding everywhere. Or so it seemed. A childhood of watching brunettes happily munching at thick braids and endless Sa...