Poem 3 Revision

Childhood


For as long as I can remember, I have been bullied. 
I don’t remember the physical pain, but the things I was called
are still fresh in my mind. 
Retard.  Idiot.  Stupid.  Immature. 
Their cold, menacing, and heartless looks of scorn and contempt as they called me these names made me feel worthless and inferior.
I was treated me like an inanimate object, like a tree or a signpost, that people would 
Never notice as they went on with their daily lives. 
 I talked only when talked to and never said more than what was necessary.  I was always suspicious of other people’s intent and ulterior motives. 
Over the years, I would spend my time in class, halfheartedly paying attention to the lectures, observing my classmates with a watchful eye. 
I was like an eagle analyzing their every movement, mannerisms, and patterns of speech.
I mastered this skill so well that I became
alert, vigilante, and constantly aware of my surroundings like a squirrel. 
Figurative red flags were set up so that when tripped would allow me to scurry away and avoid whatever danger people had in store for me. 

Comfort Zone

For as long as I can remember, I have been bullied. 

It made me quite introversive.  I became a quiet individual that avoided

problems and did not like bringing attention to himself. 

Years of both physical and verbal abuse caused me to create and operate within a

mental boundary.  By abiding to a set of strict rules and behaviors, I created

an anxiety free environment that allowed me to properly function within society without a sense of risk.  In this way, I avoided all that wished to do me harm. 

What I just described is what is known as the “comfort zone”.  We all do it. 

We all have our own reasons for doing it.  It creates an unfounded

sense of security. Going outside the zone sets in a sense of panic.

In my case, it made me miss out on a lot of things like

friendships, experiences, romances.

It’s taken long and arduous years but I have finally stepped out of my comfort zone.

As someone looking from the outside, I’ve noticed that the world revolves

around said comfort zones.

What you choose or choose not to do depends on what you are or are  not

 willing to do. 

As someone who has stuck to their stuck to their comfort zone for at least 20 years,

I can understand.  At the same time though, it’s frustrating. 

I want to meet new people, go on adventures, and have new experiences. 

I want to laugh.  I want to cry.  I want to live.

However, the vast majority of people are perfectly content following

 their mundane routine.  And it sucks.  It’s tiring.