Between Fairytales And Happy Endings
What’s wrong with me?
I never understood what all the fuss was about. My life started out just fine. I was never the center of attention, and I didn’t want to be. I was always kinda stuck on the sidelines, you know? Not really important to anyone but still there. Still loved, by some anyway.
I don’t know why, but after a while, it seemed like… well, it seemed like people were looking at me a little differently. Now I know I’m kind of peculiar looking, what with my crossed eyes and all, but this had never happened before. It was like everyone’s attention was suddenly focused on me. I was the center of attention. Every once in a while I could hear them taking. Talking about me.
Their words didn’t bug me at first. I knew that I wasn’t perfect, and I accepted that fact. I actually kinda liked the way I was. I was unique; I was special, different from everyone else. But it seemed like others were starting to emphasize that fact a little.
I have no clue where they even got the idea. They were just fine with me up until that point. Suddenly the looks I got seemed to get less friendly and curious, and a crueler, almost hostile in a way. I found myself being watched whenever I went out. It was really unnerving.
The talk I heard was getting meaner as well. Rumors spread about the way I looked. Most of them were just silly but one of them really struck a chord with me. It seemed to be the most popular rumor floating around. It was about the way I looked, the way I acted even. Now I know my voice isn’t the prettiest and I’m not the most adept with my hooves but to call me a retard? That was just going too far. My mind was just fine.
The more I heard it the more it got to me. They were actually starting to believe the rumors whole-heartedly. Some even called me out on it, accusing me of being offensive to society. I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t see myself as offensive. Was it my appearance that they didn’t like? It made me sad to think that the way I looked was causing people pain. I didn’t want to hurt people, but if my appearance was the culprit I couldn’t do anything about it.
I didn’t know what was going on. I was beginning to feel alone for the first time in my life, even though I never really was. This is never what I would have expected. I heard more rumors going around, about “correcting” me, about finding a way to “fix” my voice and eyes. To take away my very personality. To change me into something that I’m not. These were bad enough but one of the rumors really scared me, I mean legitimately scared me. They were even talking about “removing” me altogether. I didn’t know what they meant by that. Did they mean they were going to kill me? Send me away forever? I just didn’t know. All I knew was I was becoming more and more alone.
Eventually I stopped leaving home altogether. I never would have thought that being the way I am could make everything end up this way. The hate still didn’t seem to stop, even though I was seen in public less and less with each passing day. Somehow my very presence had caused some kind of an uproar. I got hateful letters by the dozens and I was verbally tormented whenever I went out. Every time I went outside I was attacked with abuse. They said I wasn’t wanted anymore, that I was worthless, and that no one loved me anymore.
I lay awake night after night, unable to sleep. I started to hate myself. I hated my stupid voice. I hated my stupid crossed eyes. I hated me. I was a freak. No one loved me anymore. I just wanted to die, to just curl up in a ball and cease to exist. Just to get away from the hate. Why couldn’t they just let me be who I was? I wasn’t hurting anyone so why were they?
How could they even try and change who I was? Who I had always been? What had I ever done wrong? I didn’t even know. I never wanted any of it. I wouldn’t have even wished that kind of treatment onto an enemy. I felt sorry for them, sorry that my appearance offended them. But I am who I am, what else could I even do?
I wished there was somewhere that I could call home, away from the stares and the pointing of all the hostile faces that filled my everyday life. Was it not enough that I never even had any friends in the first place? Sure I talked with others but I didn’t have anyone close.
After a while I started to realize something. They couldn’t control my life. What did they know anyway? There was a reason for me being the way I was, what that reason was I didn’t know and still don’t know but there had to be a reason. I rediscovered something that I had lost a long time ago, hope. I was truly sorry if I had caused anyone any kind of pain, but I refused to be sorry for being myself, for being who I was, who I am.
I still haven’t entirely accepted again, but I’m patient. I’ll keep trying, no; I’ll keep fighting for my freedom. If I never was accepted again then I would die trying. A wise man once said that friendship was magic. I wasn’t going to give up, and I never will. I will find that magic, I will find my happy ending. They couldn’t hold me down, ill just keep getting back up for more.
My name is Derpy Hooves
And I refuse to be changed.
