by Morticia Alexander

Created on: July 16, 2009

From the first social situation in witch I was ever thrust, there was an unspoken, unknown truth looming in the air that would forever follow me the rest of my days: I was irrevocably different...a freak, if you will, to the biased, judgmental social majority.

Now, after many years of wondering what the hell was wrong with me, I realize my irrevocable position in society. In hindsight, I wonder why it was not more obvious. It was as if my peers had discovered long ago what it took me a decade to figure out for myself. It is like a secret being whispered in the safe confines of the girl's locker room, allowing it to be known forever, but never released past those stone walls. It also makes me wonder, why was it kept a secret from me for so long? The points, stares, and harsh jeers of my classmates were full of knowing and understanding, yet my receiving ear was so naive...uninformed of the information they knew.

My complete junior year, and partial senior year of high school would prove to be a slaughterhouse of sorts. I, being so overwhelmed by my newfound information, would displace my hatred on the rest of the world, not stopping for a second to realize how I was being no different from the people whom I so openly hated. I never thought for a second that maybe someone among the crowd was like me: lost and alone, constantly wondering what they had done to deserve my undying hate, having never so much as crossed my path before.

In hindsight, that thought led me to another musing: what if the hate that so many people forced on me was no more than I turned around and forced on them? What if their hate was just a way of displacing the only emotion they had really ever known? I have spent many torturous, waking hours of my life contemplating this scenario from every angle. Perhaps the lives of these people were just as unfortunate as mine, and they needed to transfer the hate to something, or in my case, someone. Perhaps it started with one bully figure...someone who cut others down for no reason other than for their own sick gratification, and everyone else just followed suit, for some reason unbeknownst, even to them. Or it could have possibly been a combination of the two theories.

Then I contemplated, out of all of the other students, why was I targeted? Going back to my first musing, maybe it was because in their act of displacement, I was the one who reminded them most of what they had come to hate: the detached, aloof soul who would be the

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