Society's Outcast, Society's Friend

          People in my school call me many things. They call me weird, freak, weirdo, and anything else they can come up with. The nicest thing they've called me is abnormal, which isn't exactly a good thing the way they say it. But, it's a break from being called a freak, so I take it in stride. Even when people tried to be nice to me, I could see it in their faces. The fake smile, the forced actions, I could tell they didn't want to do it. Almost selfish, they only did it because they wanted to feel like they were a good person. They never tried for my sake, which is probably why the failed to do so every time. I could tell that they were hesitating, I could just see it in their actions. I never fully understood why the others like to be so unkind to me, they always seemed normal, as they'd done things the same way I do. Well, to them it may seem that I do unnecessary things that seem to be different from what others do. I know that I am different. What is so wrong with that? I do normal things just as they do, but I also do some more things than they do, as far as I know I'm not causing any trouble. How am I supposed to know what's supposed to be normal? I've only been doing what I was taught by my parents, and they were taught to do these things as well. I just find it unfair that this should be happening to me.

Deep in thought, I suddenly realize that the entire class is gone. School is over, the bell has rung. "I suppose I'll see you again tomorrow," the teacher had said calmly. He was used to me zoning out near the end of class and staying a little later than everyone else. I don't know if he was bothered by it, but it was nice that he didn't have the tone others do towards me. I guess he was one of the few rare people who didn't seem to have a distaste for me. Sometimes we'd chat after class, after all I wasn't in any rush to face everybody laughing and teasing me as I left the school. I'd gotten used to staying a little afterwards so I wouldn't have to face everyone, it was a bit of a routine. My teacher, Mr. Johns, and my parents had gotten used to it as well. The first few times Mr. Johns had talked to me about all the kids harassing me, but I had told him it was fine. They never got physical, so it wasn't too bad.

          As I made my way home, I'd make sure that nobody was on the sidewalk. It wasn't fear anymore, it was just general caution. Getting home was a very cautious journey and it also had its own routine, if someone was walking towards me I'd veer off the path until I had gotten what I considered far away enough. Then I figured I could return to the sidewalk. On cold days I would just use my hoodie to conceal my face so nobody could recognize me, some of the easiest days were these so I could walk home without anybody saying something to me. I would be relieved once I reached my house, as I could finally be safe from everyone else, and just be with my family.

          But as I entered my house, I was greeted by my parents, unusually. "Evan, we want to talk to you about something." I was surprised, my parents never usually wait for me. "You were recommended a therapist by the school," they said this a bit of hesitation, "so by school recommendation we're getting you a therapist." I was confused, I didn't understand why I'd need a therapist. They had confirmed many times that nothing was wrong with me, and that I'd been doing nothing wrong. But their words pulled me out of my thoughts. "We know about all the bullying, and we're scared it might be affecting you negatively." It's true, I told them about the bullying, so the school wouldn't have to. But, I never noticed a change in my behaviour because of it. Although, I guess a therapist could help somehow, I've never really thought out about it before. Perhaps they could ease mind on some things. My parents do seem concerned about me, as they know what's been happening. I agreed to go to a therapist just to make them worry less about me. I was kind of nervous, you know I'd never really told anyone my problems outside my family, this was going to be a new experience. Tired from a long day, I decided to head to my room. I wanted to lie down on my bed, just to get a little rest. I drifted off to sleep instead.

          I awoke in the morning, I must have slept really hard. I was hungry, realizing I accidentally skipped dinner from last night. I guess I was more exhausted than I thought. I got up to find something to eat, but I came to find my mother making breakfast. Eggs, bacon and hash browns. She asked me to make toast, so I obeyed. I was really hungry and making toast would help me take my mind off of that. I thought about my planned therapy instead. I didn't know what to think about it, I wouldn't know what to say to a therapist. Maybe they'll say the things I'm doing are weird too. As I was thinking about other things I was startled by the noise of the toast popping out of the toaster. One of them landed on the counter and the other stayed inside. I brought them onto a plate and buttered them. I walked to the table, and I sat down. My mother brought a plate of food to me. I started to eat, but she sat down. She seemed... off. I wanted to ask her if anything was wrong but I was too busy eating. "Are you..." her voice trailed off. I looked at her, with a look of confusion. She sighed "are you okay? Like I know you are, you're used to the bullying. But that's not what I'm talking about. Are you okay with the things we do? I know to everyone else it's weird, but it's just what we do, right? I've been thinking about it, and I know our family has done it through probably many generations, but I'd be willing to stop if you think it's interfering with your social life." I never thought I'd hear that, I was given permission to tell my family to stop family tradition. "Absolutely not!" I said confidently, however with my mouth full of food. "We shouldn't be ashamed for doing the things that we do, if we are then who are we? We should take pride in who we are, I don't want to just become somebody who's just like everyone else. If we're different what does it matter to anyone else? We're not causing trouble or harm, people just need to mind their own business and focus on themselves. They've all done things they're not proud of, and so have we. But we shouldn't be put down for something that isn't wrong." She looked away from me, but she looked back and said, "okay, I understand. I'm proud of who you are Evan. Never be somebody else." I felt proud of myself to say something so courageously. I didn't know what caused me to be like that, but it was a great feeling. I felt better about my future, like I can take anything that gets in my way.