outside looking in

When I was a kid in kindergarten, I wore en eyepatch.

Well, the 20 year old me now would most probably "work it" and pretend I were someone cool; unleash the inner diva in me and make it work. But the 6 year old me then was embarrassed, gawky and ugly. Then there was this other kid, Kimberly. She had short hair, was tall and skinny and she made fun of me. She branded me with the title Evil Witch from Snow White, and everyone laughed at me. That was my earliest memory of being bullied.

Then primary school came.

I was one of those chubby girls in class, spectacled and round. I hung around girls who were prettier, smarter, and skinny. They wore their hair in braids and had perfect skin and carried trendy backpacks to school. My winning trait was being happy. I managed to stand out. It worked.

Secondary school was fun.

Everyone was going through some sort of identity crisis and it made it easier to camouflage a lot of things I didn't know how to feel and explain. Puberty struck and boys were suddenly attractive. I did many things that I am not proud of but in retrospect I wouldn't exchange them for anything in the world.

Then came 18, 19, 20.

The best and worst years came and went.

I loved and lost, grew up but never felt more immature, insecure and fearful about life.

I was alive; and felt every burst of joy, pang of guilt and stab of pain.

Somewhere between all those years of growing up in my awkward stages, I lost something along the way. My insecurities always threatening to tear me apart at the seams. I have all these deep seated fears and inadequacies that shake the foundations of my beliefs and courage.

Where did my lion-heartedness go? Many a time I feel like Samson without his hair.

I am my own stumbling block.