Outcast at Home

Outcast At Home.

So I am a bit different. I realize that now thought nobody exactly pretended otherwise. It’s not my friends as such, for the most part they don’t care. They love me for being me and I love them for that. It’s my family. I know, everyone has trouble with their family, but at least everyone else knows their family loves them unconditionally, I am not so sure. I always end up faking it in front of them and I hate myself for it but I can’t help it. I want them to see the true me but their eye site is fogged over bu how they imagine i should be. But I am not like that. So I wear dark colors and don’t wear skirts, so I don’t talk a lot and do a lot of reading. Should that matter? Should that make them love me any less?

Really, truth be told, they don’t know the first thing about me, but they think they do. They think it’s because I have ‘issues’ when really they are the issue. If I do have problems with communication it’s because of them. They never listen to what I’ve got to say. I get told ’I’m talking rubbish’ or ‘I don’t understand’ when I am telling them about the things I believe in. They don’t want me to follow my dream to become a writer, they think it’s a juvenile fantasy and i should study hard and get a ‘real job’ I have two brothers a half-brother and four step-brothers and i still feel all alone.

They say I have changed. I know I have, I used to be so perfect I feel ashamed looking back. But back then I was miserable, I spent every waking moment pleasing others, never questioning, never hesitating just doing. And now I can think for myself they hate it. They hate me for it.

One day my step-mother turned around to me and says ‘why can’t you be like all the other girls?’ I don’t think I have ever felt angrier or more lost than I did at that moment. I love being different at school and on the street but I still want to be understood and loved unconditionally at home. I will never forget those words and every time I put on a black bandanna or multi-colored eyeliner they echo through my head.

But in the end they say and I say but no body DOES.
And as each day goes by I feel more and more like an outcast in my own home

Outcast at Home


York, United Kingdom

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Artist's Description

A Short Story, which could be describes as the story of my life really. But all need to know is that it was written from the Heart.

Artwork Comments

  • shaytay
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