These Words of Mine

Panting. I was panting, holding the choked words back, burying them somewhere to be lost in my mind, like self torture. Maybe I really was torturing myself- at least it felt that way. I wanted to believe I was too hard on myself. But was I really? After all, they never really conversed with me. I was like a ghost to them. Or worse. I was a ghost to them. I probably drew them away with my expressionless face and monotone voice.

Huddled, like a pack of distant wolves, they laughed and talked to each other- something that was impossibly difficult to comprehend. I hadn't done it in years. Not really, at least. Something always got in the way.

Sometimes it was my hair or clothes, and other times it was my entire physical appearance, from my round nose down to my skinny ankles. This time it was the flat scar deeply stamped across my left cheek. I convinced myself that everyone within a seventy foot radius of me was thinking about it, talking about it. The whispers in the room grew louder. I could feel everyone's eyes watching me like a hawk, wondering how the scar came to be and why I didn't make a greater effort to cover it up.

One day, I thought. One day at a time. Just take a deep breath and don't be afraid to speak. But there wasn't always just one voice in my head. There were two, to be exact. And they were polar opposites. I tried to distinguish the truth and the lie like my mom always said to do, but it was no easy task. Instead, just to be safe, I went with the stronger and harsher voice in my head. The one screaming and dying to be heard. After all, how could it be so loud and not tell the truth?

Still. I longed to talk. It didn't come easily to me but letting the words wither in my throat hurt more than the humiliation I was afraid to face.

I uncovered my clammy hands from my pockets and brushed the loose strand of hair behind my ear, before cautiously walking towards the group of people I'd admire from afar for so long. I said a short greeting, barely audible, soft and shaky. I said it once more, slightly louder. And there it was. A number of puzzled faces, wondering why I'd open my mouth at all. Like the pack they came in, a pack they left. I stood alone again, feeling regretful. Then, from the corner of my eye I saw Nolan, an autistic classmate from my mathematics class, flashing his two front bunny teeth at me. It made me smile. Suddenly it didn't seem so bad- that feeling of being rejected.

If Nolan's smile and reassurance is all it took to comfort me, I'd make sure to follow his example. Like Nolan, I'd smile, and hope to be a light to someone, even if only for myself.