Hey. It's like 10:30 at night, but I just felt the need to write this.
The Outcasts
I am the outcast. The socially awkward girl, the fat girl, the girl who never talks. But what you don't know is that I have trust issues because my mother has abused me ever since my father died. She's a drug addict, and when she's high, I'm an easy victim. So I took comfort in food. But the thing is, the food just disappeared - and left me this way. And I will never be able to forget, because I have autism and that means that any bad memory I have, any snide comment a bully makes or any sting of my mother's slaps, sticks with me forever. And then I realized I was a lesbian - but my best friend just keeps making homophobic comments and...and I'm not willing to be anyone's punching bag. I'm not willing to hide who I am. I'm coming out, and screw anyone who doesn't approve. I'm terrified every day.
I am the outcast. I am the skinny guy, the guy who always wears dirty clothes and has greasy hair, the guy who sits in stony silence. But what you don't know is that my father walked out years ago, and ever since we're barely surviving. We can't afford to pay the water bill, to pay the electric bill, to buy food - s**t, we're almost homeless. And it doesn't help that my parents were poor to begin with. My mom is convinced that God is going to help us, but I'm running out of anything to believe in. Why would God leave us like this? My escape is drugs, drugs and music. Loud enough to block out the comments of the stupid f*****g yuppies around me. But pretty soon the high fades and I'm left with nothing. Then this random chick sat next to me in science class. Couldn't be any more different than me, but I feel like I can tell her anything, like she'll listen even if she can't possibly relate. It helps, venting to her. I'm terrified every day.
I am the outcast. I am the friendless girl, the scared girl, the girl whose voice nobody understands. But what you don't know is that I just moved from Mexico, so my English isn't the greatest, and I have a really thick accent. To make things worse, I'm "special needs," and for some ridiculous reason everyone thinks that means "stupid." Without even getting to know me. It's so different here, so fast fast fast and frightening. I've tried to make friends, but it's like people hate anyone different. They all look at me and snicker, or fix their pale faces into expressions of pity until I want to rip their eyes out. It's so infuriating; don't they understand that I have my pride? Then someone walked up to me and smiled, asked a question. A genuine question, like she really wanted to get to know me. Not like she felt sorry for me or was planning to laugh with her friends about it later. And now she's my best friend. It doesn't change the snickers and vicious whispers, the little insipid giggles that I wish didn't have the power to make me cry myself to sleep. I'm terrified every day.
They are the outcasts. They are the freaks. The kids who hang on the fringes of life, the kids you ignore. They are the outcasts. She is the autistic, overweight lesbian who writes beautiful poetry that no one will ever read, but all anyone sees is her body. He is the guy whose life is falling down around him and still manages to be the most selfless, caring person you will meet. She is the frightened girl with the voice only one person can decipher, but she has amazing courage and loyalty. They are the outcasts, the amazing people you may never know if you don't try. They're terrified every day.And the thing is - they're real people. They are real outcasts, people who have faded into the background, people you might know.
They are the outcasts. But they don't have to be. No one does. So go, be that kid who listens to the frightened girl, be the girl who is that guy's only escape from the stress and poverty of his life, be the person that encourages that lesbian to come out and cheers her on the whole way. Be the person who changes their lives. Because no one should be terrified every day.
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They actually are. I based them off of real people I've been extremely lucky to get to know.
Sorry the poem isn't that good - it's late at night and I'm tired but can't sleep. I kind of have to try, though. So goodnight.
3 comments:
Please note that these kids aren't exactly portrayed in the poem the way they actually are in real life. I just got the general gist of their situations - trust issues because of problems at home, extreme poverty, being bullied. You'll be glad to know that now:
1. The lesbian in question is out and proud, and surrounding herself with people who support and accept her for who she is. She's also a lot more confident and has lost a good deal of weight. Her mother is *verbally* abusive, not physically or sexually, and she's still having a hard time with that but has made arrangements to leave home and move out to stay with friends ASAP.
2. The poor guy, unfortunately, is still poor, but he has a much brighter outlook on life and is doing better in school now. I haven't seen him in over a year and I'm scared to death for his safety and well-being, but all I can do at this point is pray that he'll be alright.
3. The Hispanic girl has since lost contact with that friend of hers, as they now go to different schools and have busy schedules, but they've never forgotten each other. She is also far more confident now, thanks in good part to her old best friend, has made more friends, and speaks much better English. She's on the swim team at her high school and having a lot of fun with it.
It´s an amazing piece of text. I love it!
Yes, the freaks... I found out that it´s much easier hanging with the freaks than with th 'normal' guys.
Screw normal! Weird is awesome.
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