When I was young I didn’t like

To brush my hair
I didn’t know what was
In or out.
All I knew was what I picked up from
Girls around
Me.
Pretty girls.
Girls with dolls.
Girls with sisters.
I only had brothers.
I scaled trees, and played sports
Clothes didn’t interest me
Bugs didn’t scare me.
But that wasn’t right
I wasn’t right.
Because I wasn’t like
Other
Girls.

At first I didn’t care.
I was confident?
Besides
Only some girls were opposed
Suddenly
Girls that liked me were less
And
Less
I was a freak.
An outcast.
Or at least I seemed to be
To her.
To them.
School petrified me
I had to see
Them.
All together
A herd of hyenas
Laughing
About
Me.
Neverending days.
Sleepless nights.
Lightless night was void of
Girls.
Shattered, broken, crying.
“Why don’t they like me?”
These words hugged me.
Until I suffocated.

There I was hiding
Between the cramping cell
the mildewed bathroom walls.
My tomb.
I just sat.
Too afraid to come out.
My fear,
My pain,
My insecurities
Telling me
“Stay away”
You’ll just get hurt
Again. 
Sometimes I’d see girls
between the cracks.
Nice girls.
Girls who smiled
Girls who laughed.
Maybe I could try again.
Just
Maybe.