I was always told
You look just like your mom
And I always hating hearing that
Because it felt like it stole thunder over my identity
I was a selfish spoiled daughter for thinking that then
Because I’d give anything to be compared to her again.

She is so selfless, compassionate, and kind
In fact I can recall there was the one time
I called her in tears because I forgot my lunch
And without hesitation she threw on her cape
Super mom was ready to save the day.

And she flew so fast
Because every second that passed
Her little girl was still hungry
And to her, any feeling that wasn’t smiles and laughter was unacceptable.

And her giving kept going
Because in my brown bag lunch
She would leave a note
With enough X’s and O’s to play tic tack toe.

I am not my mother
But I care like she does
And I am not my father
But I speak with his wit
I am an only child
But I am not the only child
Who feels lonely from time to time.

In fact I can recall there was the one time
When I realized what it felt like to be out casted
At only age four
I was stricken to glasses
Thick wired frames with lens that were massive.

Between you and me
Something about glasses
Makes kids really mean
I was called four eyes among other things
I would shout:
“You’re the one who needs glasses”
I would plea:
“I only have two eyes, butthead
Clearly you can’t see!”

I can look back and laugh
Insults were less personal back in 3rd grade
Entering High School
Things drastically change
Name calling became tailor made
A bully’s personal game
An ego’s selfish gain.

Kids made sure to hit you hard and fast
Sometimes it hurt so bad
I would go home with whip lash
From being verbally bashed.

But my mom never saw me cry
I made sure to hold back the tears until I was home
And finally when alone,
Door shut and locked
I’d lie on my stomach
Face down on a pastel comforter
Bed being my only source of comfort
Sobs and tears would soak up the sheets
Salty drops representing defeat.

My father would gently knock on my door and ask
“Are you alright?”
I’d muster up the strength I had left
To force a smile and say, “I’ll be right out.”

Then I’d turn over and lie on my back
Watching the ceiling fan circle its arms around my room
The cool breeze soothed on my red face
Like aloe on a bad beach sun burn.

I’d turn on my side and sigh
Shifting my weight, and getting ready to stand
Be a man, like my dad always wanted.

My feet hit the cold floor and now it was time
To go out and fake it like I have before
Wishing the insults remained at eyes of four.