I was left handed.
I despised it more than anything. Why did I have to be persecuted because I wasn't what the world told me I had to be. I hated the way people looked at me when they saw me they way I was. I could see the judgement rush into their eyes. Like, who was I not to be the way they were.
I couldn't help that I was more comfortable that way. It felt right. Any other way was foreign.
I tried being normal, disguising myself as a right handed child, but I would slip, something would happen, and the truth came out. My parents were more aggravating than the strangers I came across.
"We raised you to be right handed, are you sure? You're not even old enough to make those kinds of decisions for yourself."
I was their own flesh and blood, and they treated me like a disease, something you'd want a second opinion on.
Kids at school were horrible. Lefties were looked desperately down upon. It was hard to find someone like me. But when I did, I held on to their kindness tightly, because they knew what it was like. To be left handed.
