Odd One Out

Home. A place where I could call my own, where I could live freely, and alongside my family. That was what I thought having a home meant. 

I didn’t always have a home. Being born in a different part of the world unlike the rest of my family, everything felt odd. I felt odd. Only always, did it cross my mind that I was different from everyone in my family, after all, I am the odd one out.

Moving from place to place, we never really settled in. Between always moving and sharing small apartments with another family, you could say that I have many homes.

Kennedy Way. That was the name of the street of my fourth home. My family lived in a small apartment with another old couple. My family—my mom, dad, brother, and me—all shared one room together. It was a small apartment, and an even smaller room. Not much bigger than a king sized bed. 

Though my life wasn’t as glamorous as other families, it was my home. Not because it was the place I would go home to everyday, but because my family was there. It was my home because I felt protected and safe in the comfort of my family. My family, the people who raised and took care of me. Never once did it ever cross my mind again that I was the odd one out. 

Different worlds, same planet

Have you ever lost or taken anything for granted? 

Everyday I wake up, go to school, go home, eat, and sleep. Simple right? Actually no, it is not. It’s complicated, life is complicated. Not everyone is able to do this. Everything, even the most natural, can be considered rare to others. 

Growing up I was always told not to take things for granted. However, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Until I learned that it was. Observing those around me, I became aware of my surroundings. There are people out there who yearn for what others have but take for granted. Even what I took for granted, others could only dream.

I realized that I need to stop and take time to think about life and everything that I have. That I should be grateful to have such privileges and appreciate what it is I do have.

The Small, But Big Differences

Old clothing. Used clothing. That’s all I ever knew. My brother’s clothes. My mom’s clothes. Thrifted clothing worn by strangers. Old hand me downs from distant relatives. Sometimes if I’m lucky, I’ll even get a brand new shirt for my birthday. 

I should be grateful. I am grateful, I’m grateful for the clothing that I do have to give me warmth. But sometimes, I feel sad. Looking at other kids getting new clothes and shoes, even my own brother, while I get all his hand me downs from five years ago.

Just the thought of it makes me sad. But it’s not my fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. Some people just aren’t capable and financially stable to afford new clothing. It’s not like I don’t know this, I do. I know that my family isn’t as well off as other families, and sacrifices have to be made. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just… it makes me feel dejected, as if I’m… different.

The Truth Untold

Inadequate. Worthless. Weak. Everyone feels this way. No one is immune to it. Everyone is vulnerable and that’s just how life is. 

You may think that I’m good for nothing. That I’m weak and I’ll never make it in this world. All this pain I feel, all the tears I’ve shed. It feels… like I’m drowning. Always wishing for a peace that is lost. An unknown happiness. 

But I’m tired. So instead I diminish everything and everyone, and subdue myself into the little void of sorrow that I’ve created for myself. Here, I think for myself as all my thoughts and despair cloud my mind. Only anguish consoles me as darkness engulfs me into oblivion.

I think to myself, just how cruel this world can be. I feel like an abomination purging into an empty void, with only my dark shadow keeping my company. Just for once I want to be safe from misery and to be cleansed from all the scars. The scars… that tell my tale.

The Next Chapter

I’ve come to realize that life’s unfair. Others just don’t care.

Life doesn’t give us much of a choice. We don’t get to choose where we came from, the color of our skin, our parents, nor the condition we live in. Everything is given to us without our consent. 

But it doesn’t matter. Because, it’s the choices we make that defines who we are. It’s our thoughts and what we chose to do with it. Everyday, every second, memories are made. Our memories represent the reflection of our choices.

Our lives are built by the decisions we made yesterday, the ones we make today, and what we choose to do tomorrow. Our choices may not be the right ones, but they will define who we are and who we become. For every answer has a destination. Life is the wonder of the world. My world. The world that I built. So I live it, with no regrets.