I Am This Way

Uploaded by DerpKids1996 on 19.08.2012

bjbj"9"9 As a child I lived my life in a different way, my body short and thin as comparing to
my sister, but tall and stocky to my peers. I was strong with muscle, sinewy and solid,
climbing trees as deftly as an ape would. Riding my bike strong and hard, giving the
back of my hand to Speed Racer and making him MY bitch as I rode off into the sunset.
I was happy, confident, pride and joy filled my heart, people loved me. Elizabeth, Elizabeth!
Come out to play! They d say. Yes, because I don t care that I look this way. As I grew
my body changed, growing this way and that, out and up. Up and down. Face marked with
the red finger paint of my pubescent hell, hair refusing my wishes, refusing to look
like the straight beauty that belonged to those who would torment me for my unusual
looks and life. Hiding behind my doubts and hurt lonely scared withering under the pressure
of the people whose acceptance I wanted the most. People, People! Come out to play! Please!
d say No, not while you look that way My pride hurt and shattered I d run, banishing myself
from the eyes of people I wished would look at me and not see a broken, hollow freak,
but who I felt I was, who I wanted to be, one of them, beautiful, flawless, happy. d
pull up my hoodie and run far, far away. Finding solace in people as lost and lonely as I,
myself, felt. Our shattered hopes and dreams spread out in our lies and deceits hoping
to not be who we were but be the aristocracy that so harshly condemns us for that which
we love. Friends, Friends! Come out to play! d say No, not while we feel this way I cried
in shame at my own self demise, writhing under the oppression, screaming, twisting, and turning.
Notice me, notice me, NOTICE ME! I d shout in my head with not a single person to hear
it, my life giving me no relief, my own destiny forsaking the twisted little girl that itself
created. Not twig thin or porcelain faced, no one offering the hard truth of why I can
t be them. Why can t I be them? I try finding hope, burying myself in ink and paper, ignoring
the cruelty around me, claiming not to notice the demon stabbing at the back of my mind:
you re wrong, worthless, nothing. I bounce, a tumble weed, from one rumor to the next.
No rest for the wicked. My only salvation the words surrounding me, gripping hold and
never letting go. Girl, Girl! Come out to play! they d say Yes, because you don t care
that I am this way As years went by my body morphed into yet another form, with hips jutting
from side to side, swaying against my will, waist pulling in, chest growing abnormally
full, Hair curling in a way that could be worked with, face showing small brown dots
on the apples of my cheeks instead of the indiscretions my trudge through puberty forced
me to wear like a mask of hate into the death trap called school, Stop, stop! What are you
doing? Please not again, no more change! Friends and family stared at me, eyes filled with
shock and awe as if I were a treasure to be hidden away. Using words that hadn t graced
my adolescent ears in what feels like an eternity, Beautiful, lovely, graceful. My brain forced
out those thoughts, that I could once again be that happy little child that walked with
her bouncy head held high, instead of the awkward little teen left behind after the
wars of middle school left scars on every inch of my weary, young soul, feeling too
old and worn for my own skin. The skin that made me feel unwelcome and unwanted. Undesired
by the boys I hoped would someday make me feel like I was the only important girl they
d ever know instead of the piece of trash their words and gestures turned me into. I
hid once more, under the shy, overly large clothes I bought for myself at the only stores
I could afford to go to. Unable to shop at the boutiques and name brand havens my aggressors
wore across their chest like a Congressional Medal of Honor. Bear, Bear! Come out to play!
they d say Not yet, not since I changed this way Not much longer had passed when I finally
looked around the tattered remains of what I will soon call my childhood and thought
to myself: This is what I let myself become? Pushed under the seas of depression by the
unyielding grip of the hate and blame from those who never truly knew who I was as a
person, allowing myself to float aimlessly and begin to drown under their tyranny. No.
Their words were not what made me who I was. The friends who were merely concealed bringers
of pain did not make me who I was. The people I once worshipped, hoping to be able to mold
my awkward fragmented self into so I could look around and finally say I fit in, did
not make me who I was. To be them and to give in felt the same as sacrificing all that I
was taught to be by my loving givers of birth and life who were only able to sit back and
watch as I fell further and further down the tunnel to a world they couldn t protect their
tiny, little baby girl from. To be them meant to forget all that I had read and learned
that said THEY were the ones who needed to change, not me. To be them is to hurt. To
hurt is to bring pain and pain is the bile that life spits back up at you after you have
nothing left to give the world, everything else you have to offer taken by those who
don t deserve it. I am not them. I will not be them. As that epiphany wracked my mind,
I burst through my proverbial shell, coming forth as a phoenix would it s ashes and leaving
all those who brought me down into the hell I was once in , in the dust of the life I
had now found. Friends who loved, people who laughed, teachers that thought to the extent
that I could learn surrounded me, filling my soul once more with the joys and shine
of a person who was truly happy. My heart soaring as looking in the mirror no longer
brought on tears of shame and disgust but smiles of beauty and confidence that someone
looking like I do now deserves. Finally, my hell was over! Bumps and bruises may still
yet mar the path of my own self-discovery but I will no longer let that be the reason
I don t love myself for who I am and not the bitches that made me feel like love was unattainable.
Liz, Liz! Come out to play! they d say Yes, because I m happy I am this way. hj!% ph333
ph333 ph333 ph333 hj!% ph333 ph333 ph333 ph333 ph333 ph333 ph333 urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags
place urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags City As a child I lived my life in a different
way, my body short and thin as comparing to my sister, but tall and stocky to my peers
Cat Williams Normal Cat Williams Microsoft Office Word Mythically Speaking As a child
I lived my life in a different way, my body short and thin as comparing to my sister,
but tall and stocky to my peers Title Microsoft Office Word Document MSWordDoc Word.Document.8