The Outsider
Being different was not a bad thing for me. It was the ridicule that came along with being abnormal for there was no justice for the different, no safe haven for the weak and no solace for the segregated. In this vast land mass there was no room for people like me.
My face shone in the subdued watery sunlight as it burst in beams through the almost complete cloud layer above, casting transitory spotlights. My features were typical of my kin in the lands south across the seas, but here they marked me out as an alien. My cocoa-pigmented, angularlying chiselled face was considered appealing back home or at least not disturbin, here it was a cause of alarm. Trust me, I am not one to blame them for their views, for these people have lived in the colder climes for so long that their skin now matched the snow. On the other hand mine unmistakably resonated the rich fertile soils of the motherland.
Back home I did not have an accent. In the rolling hills and plunging valleys my speech was as common as the coarse grey shingle we covered the dirt roads with. Unfortunately, in this vicinity it made me stick out like a demon in heaven. Most of the time I remained inconspicuous within the shadows, until I utter a single syllable, then I watch the oddly coloured blue-green eyes harden as of trying to decifer my origins. The icy eyes soon notice my extremely curly hair and the minimum colour on their faces deserts them as they slowly cower as if backing away from an irate wild savage. I knew I was normal but I still felt a bucketful of ice cascading deep into the void that is my stomach, making me break out in nervous sweats.
Even walking down the cobbled streets, the most mundane of tasks proved to be much more than I anticipated. I was greeted by vile sneers, pointing fingers and whispers accompanied by slurs. Goosebumps swept across my limbs despite the temperate weather as my twitchy eyes scanned the interrogative faces. Everyone had developed their own theory on why I had so much more melanin and why my hair did not grow the orthodox way. They acted as if I was an intensely potent radioactive creature, ready to detonate. In as much as I held my head high and wore my kinks like a crown, I still felt belittled and asked myself why. Why would one treat a fellow human with such disregard? Was it because my skin was fifty shades darker, or because my hair did not blow in the wind?
I felt trapped in my own skin, humiliated like a monkey caged in a zoo for the scrutiny of all. I was an object of inadequate, minuscule value, but you could never understand, could you?
Not you in your perfect little world.......
My face shone in the subdued watery sunlight as it burst in beams through the almost complete cloud layer above, casting transitory spotlights. My features were typical of my kin in the lands south across the seas, but here they marked me out as an alien. My cocoa-pigmented, angularlying chiselled face was considered appealing back home or at least not disturbin, here it was a cause of alarm. Trust me, I am not one to blame them for their views, for these people have lived in the colder climes for so long that their skin now matched the snow. On the other hand mine unmistakably resonated the rich fertile soils of the motherland.
Back home I did not have an accent. In the rolling hills and plunging valleys my speech was as common as the coarse grey shingle we covered the dirt roads with. Unfortunately, in this vicinity it made me stick out like a demon in heaven. Most of the time I remained inconspicuous within the shadows, until I utter a single syllable, then I watch the oddly coloured blue-green eyes harden as of trying to decifer my origins. The icy eyes soon notice my extremely curly hair and the minimum colour on their faces deserts them as they slowly cower as if backing away from an irate wild savage. I knew I was normal but I still felt a bucketful of ice cascading deep into the void that is my stomach, making me break out in nervous sweats.
Even walking down the cobbled streets, the most mundane of tasks proved to be much more than I anticipated. I was greeted by vile sneers, pointing fingers and whispers accompanied by slurs. Goosebumps swept across my limbs despite the temperate weather as my twitchy eyes scanned the interrogative faces. Everyone had developed their own theory on why I had so much more melanin and why my hair did not grow the orthodox way. They acted as if I was an intensely potent radioactive creature, ready to detonate. In as much as I held my head high and wore my kinks like a crown, I still felt belittled and asked myself why. Why would one treat a fellow human with such disregard? Was it because my skin was fifty shades darker, or because my hair did not blow in the wind?
I felt trapped in my own skin, humiliated like a monkey caged in a zoo for the scrutiny of all. I was an object of inadequate, minuscule value, but you could never understand, could you?
Not you in your perfect little world.......
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