1.4 Creative Writing: Now and Then

The scenery is unfamiliar territory; looming up ahead me and ready to take me into a place I don’t belong. Trees beckon me towards my uncertain fate in this new world, and I feel the hard ground beneath my feet. Cool to the touch. The atmosphere seems: strange, uninviting, and mysterious. Strange faces guide my way in as all the new children, like me, gather in groups. I walk in lonely. Chattering comes from among those groups; rising above the other voices. Overpowering, unsettling and capturing my hearing. Clusters of buildings make up our surroundings. A playground in the midst. Yellow and green fields surround us, waiting to be used again. One tree seems to beckon someone to climb up and be above the world. Standing just to the left of the playground; it’s leaves bright green. Welcoming. Deceiving. My attention is broken as the adults gather us together, as equals, on the deck to show us our place. Their command only shows us how different we all are. How were are individuals in this big new place. How we will have to strive to be a group.

We are all separated, and gathered into our rooms. I do not fit in. I do not speak up. I do not belong. My book is all that pulls me through the day; a hard lump in my bag. Welcoming and Inviting. It engages me through the first two hours, but still cannot ease my panic for break. When our break eventually comes I sneak outside; trapped among the other children racing to find the best place to sit with their friends. Where can I sit? Where can I go? Are my thoughts as I stand in the doorway. There is only place no one else has gone, the deck. Sitting on it is like sitting on rough sandpaper that is crumpled with use, but where else can I go. All I am is a mouse surrounded by elephants, so close to being trampled. I sit alone, but not truly alone, because I cannot be truly alone when I have a book to read. My book is one object that can take me away from this world. Where all I can feel is that I am: lonely, scared, frightened, unloved, and unworthy of anything that I receive. Including attention. My books can take me to places I will never explore, and experience thing I never would. Like true friendship. It can also take me to a place where I belong. Unfortunately stories do not last forever, so soon I am pulled back to reality. Back to my normal place. The place where I am just a chameleon. Blending in but not belonging.

The scene around me is welcoming. It is grand and amazing but also scary. People around me are now as familiar to me as my most visited location. One path that I follow is warm to the touch thanks to receiving help from the sun. Trees are no longer threats and the atmosphere seems light and easy. Hiding a secret. The children around me are now teenagers, and just as much trouble. An important thing to notice is that I am no longer alone. Yes I am alone while walking to the place were we meet, but I will no longer be sitting alone during the day and reading. Now I can sit among friends. Feel involved. Feel liked. I am not surrounded by endless chatter anymore but it is replaced by silence with the occasional whisper. A detour via the tree tells me that it is not so inviting, and that the green leaves that used to envelop its arms are now bare. I can also see the empty space where buildings used to stand tall and proud and the newly filled spaces where they perch. After a walk up the grass covered bank, I see the room where all of us meet, and my friends be soon. Already, I have made note on my way up here that the adults are far less controlling then they used to be. Most of them anyway.

Even though it has been four years, I still do not speak up. My book is still inviting, but I now have more reasons to come back up from it. Still reading during interval and lunch but now sitting in the bright green quad that is home to many growing trees. We sit there and talk, read and work on our homework. The grass that we sit on during breaks feels like soft, green, fluffy carpet. Feeling more at home here than ever before and it is no longer unfamiliar scenery. It is now the place that I spend most of my time visiting, from Monday to Friday, the place that I first had real friends. Friends that I can chat to and read with. Friends that are like my family. Friends that I can connect with and have my back. I am still lonely and self-conscious sometimes, but they can be a great encouragement though those times. I am glad that I can finally have friends, even though there are fights that are going on around me. There is still one thing that still sets me apart and has evolved with time. I am still a chameleon. Blending in but not comfortable in my own skin. Belonging in this place.