it looks like rain tonight.

prejudice. a preconceived opinion not based on factual circumstance.

"it's what's on the inside that counts." is the popular adage that people chant, as if a mantra to rescue themselves from the vanity that defines us. to be completely honest, the irony is not lost on me, as i find that it's most often the lazy ones, or people who think they're too hip to care how they look, that use these words to justify their outward appearance. of course this account is going to be on the losing the genetic lottery and how it molded me.

meet me, a five year old, whose mother religiously pulls my hair into pig tails everyday before school, is suddenly confronted with the reality that there is no such thing as expecting to be acknowledged for one's intentions rather than practice. this was the revelation stemming from whence my kindergarten teacher jokingly told me, after being made cry by a group of boys' persistant teasing, that eating flowers would make you pretty.

ohh the flowers i consumed. (denial.)

while an inappropriate thing to say to a child, i assume she had said this harboring only all the love in the world. the only thing in mind a hope to alleviate a kid's juvenile insecurities. what she did not know was the ripple effect this off-hand remark would cause and indeed, affect the rest of my life.

a few months after this, my mother caught me stuffing my face with ixora flowers, and you can guess the rest. the teacher was duly reprimanded after my mother dear raised hell at the school, i, of course was devastated that my looks just were and no amount of flowers could change that. (anger.)

a series of what most people would call unfortunate events eventually saw me a withdrawn, jaded, broken youth. desperate for attention others around me got, seemingly without trying, i consciously  began to change the way i spoke and walked. though i had exceptional learning skills, and could read and understand and process the likes of dickens and twain, i purposefully pretended to be at the same level as my classmates.. the likes of which were at the time struggling to get through some fluff by enid blyton. so intense was the desire to fit in that i deliberately denied myself what i wanted, what i could do, and who i was. (bargaining.) bear in mind, these were the during the tender growing years of a primary schooler.

prejudice. a preconceived opinion not based on reason. the way others perceived me was the way i, in turn, saw myself. in other words, being alienated by my-aged peers was the direct cause of my self-loathing. (depression.)

things changed when i got to the ripe old age of eleven. perhaps it was the exhaustion of constantly trying too hard to please those around me, the humiliation of begging for affirmation, maybe just the way i couldn't bring myself to meet my own gaze in the mirror, or more likely, an accumulation of the above and several other trivialities, but i decided that there were better things to fret about than winning over the masses. (acceptance.)

prejudice. a preconceived opinion not based on experience. the way others perceived me no longer mattered, because they who did not bother to know me did not deserve to. in other words, being ostracized was paving the way to independence, inner strength and the ability to let that which does not matter truly.. slide.