"Judging us. No, Judging me. "
The Places I’ve Lived
By: Sabrina Baima
Conroe, Texas (5 years old)
Anger bubbled up inside of me. My cousin had destroyed my favorite doll. I couldn’t keep anything, could I? My emotions were a whirlwind enveloping my little logic and reasoning, but I had an instinctual feeling not to show weakness. Weakness was not an option. As I sat down, the whispers of my peers began to reach the edge of my range of hearing. They knew. I knew. I was an outsider. I did not belong there. I did not belong anywhere simply because I was different, I will always be different.
Chicago, Illinois (7 years old)
My feet slid on the cold, wooden floor of the rented home, and I reached forward to pull back the curtains draped across my window. Outside a quiet magic had taken hold, everything wrapped in a white blanket of snow. I stood there for a little while longer, until a bird flew at my window. It was large and black, bigger than I’d ever seen a crow. The bird looked at me, and I had a feeling it knew, that we knew. We should not be there. The curtain swished back into it’s position when I let it go, acting as a barrier against the world I didn’t care to know. Later my father told me it was a raven, a bird of death. I thought it fitting, as this place was dead to me as I was to it.
Austin, Texas [City] (10 years old)
I closed my eyes, the creak of my swing like music, enjoying the feeling of peace as the hot spring wind hit my face. The feeling didn’t last long.
“Hey!” the shout of a classmate tore through the air, disturbing the tranquility of the afternoon. Regretfully, I put my foot down and my swing skidded to a stop. The principal's daughter Katrina stood before me. Everyone was scared of her because of her father. I wasn’t because I knew we were going to leave anyway. I knew she didn’t appreciate my indifferent attitude towards her supposed ‘superiority’. I hadn’t cared about that either.
“Yes?” I responded politely, attempting not to stroke the sleeping beast.
“Give me that swing, It’s mine!” I sighed. This had the makings of a long day. Weighing the pros and cons, I answered her tiredly.
“I’m sorry, but this is mine. There is another one over there, if you want it.”
“No! I want this one!” she answered. I was finally fed up.
“Well, you can’t have this one!” I snapped. I had made a mistake; I knew this as soon as I spat the words out of my mouth. By now three or four girls stood watching us, Judging us. No, Judging me. The pain happened fast and hard. One minute I was vertical, and the next I was on the laying ground, sharp kicks to my stomach. It was all I could do not to sob with the pain, not to show the weakness I wanted to. As the girls laughed cruelly, and the teachers rushed forward to commence damage control, I was left in the dust. It was then that I realized that I didn’t belong here either. And we all knew it.
"Judging us. No, Judging me. "
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