who is wrong, who is right
who decides for we
how long shall we fight
when will we see
we are all different, alright
All his life he knew he was different. Sure there were others like him, or so he had been told. He was yet to meet any of them though. Alone in the world, he strived to fit in, find a place he could call his. His mere prevented this. So he kept to himself as much as he would, restricting contact with the world to the bare minimum. When he ventured out, he could feel there stares, hear their whispers, sense their fear. He tried to ignore them, block their voices out-‘Don’t stare at him sweetheart, it’s rude’, a mother would chastise her curious son, dragging him away as quickly as possible. Small boys chasing each other around a car would stop instantly, start laughing hysterically at him as they nudged each other and pointed. Another would see him approach and duck into an alley or shop; yet another would cross the street shaking his head in disgust. Once or twice he had mustered enough courage to meet a stranger’s curious gaze. Eyes had been quickly averted, shamefully so, almost bringing tears to his eyes. Hunched backs, crooked fingers, dismembered arms, disfigured faces, twisted limbs, bodies covered in sores and scares pus oozing out freely. In a mall filled with all sorts of people shopping happily away, he felt most alone. He imagined a day when he would meet and greet his neighbours and exchange mundane pleasantries. The simplicity of life that others enjoyed and took for granted. He dreamed of a soul mate, a single being that would look beyond the surface; delve into the soul that lay deep inside this shell. Only one person who could see through this exterior that was not of his choosing, this shell that had become a burden, a curse to him. Scrutinise and appreciate that he was no different from them. Every night he stood in front of his mirror, looking at his flawless skin, well-formed limbs, sinews and muscles, proportionally set facial features, straight back and silently curse his luck. For in this perfect world he lived in, he was the imperfect one.
bc 21/2/2011
