Strange Bird

by LyricalJAZ

June 21, 2013

For quite a while, I was the black sheep. The quiet freak, who never parted her

lips or raised her hand. Every day I confined to my own solitude. It seemed I could

never find my niche, forever shunned and cast out for being me. Perception was

reality and I was defined as a four-eyed nerd, ugly bookworm, and proper talking

black girl whose handwriting was exceptionally neat.

I longed for acceptance, for my voice to be heard, and to be embraced by those

around me. Day in and day out I sat by the window and read Ronald Dahl while

the screams and laughter of my classmates surrounded me. It seemed the day

that I would be synonymous with the word “normal” would never come, that a

shadow of awkwardness would forever follow my life, my soul, my being.

I prayed for a miracle of social acceptance, for a chance to “fit in” with the normal

people. But when that wish came true, I had never felt more alone in their

company.

I was confused. I was flustered and lost trying to make sense of this complexive

contradiction. Why couldn’t I just blend in and fit into the missing piece of the

puzzle? Why did I have to be so weird, so strange, and so abnormal? It seemed

like a question that would never summate an answer. So I dipped in and out of

friendships, cliques, and clubs trying to figure out who I was and how to paint the

picture of who I wanted to be. I knew I had to do the work and renovate the inner

being of my soul.

Through it all, I learnt I am different and that’s okay because I am me. I embrace

who I am, and no longer need social acceptance from others around me.

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Comments (1)

ScottBaileyJul 2, 2013

Dear Mentee, There is a great deal of wisdom here, not only about the narrator's self, but also the characters around her.  My favorite area:I was defined as a four-eyed nerd, ugly bookworm, and proper talking black girl whose handwriting was exceptionally neat.  And another:But when that wish came true, I had never felt more alone in their company.          Unfortunately, this is so true.  When we are surrounded by people, this is when we feel the most alone.   Keep reading and writing, my dear.   Scott BaileyP.S.  The poets Gwendolyn Brooks, Natasha Tretheway, and Louise Bogan may be some poets that might interest you.