Red

I had heard about the wonders of the outside world from my friends, but I never got to fully experience it; and it was a marvel of mine to do so. Every morning and evening as I saw a glimpse of the room, I wished that it would be me who would be selected to wander the bustling streets of Beirut; alas, it never was so. Until last Saturday that is… I felt a shiver run up and down my entire being as I felt his warm hands touch against me – I felt giddy with excitement. So this is what it must feel like to be anxious, scared, and excited all at the same time, I thought. I could already imagine the fun and adventure that lay ahead of me that evening.

The minute I stepped out of the house, the pleasant evening breeze greeted me like a long-lost friend. Its cool touch against my skin was welcoming and accepting. I walked the streets with an ease and confidence I had not known I possessed… but little did I know that the feeling would not remain until the rest of the evening. Others looked at me and smiled, others giggled and tried to pathetical hide their amusement under their noses; but I saw them all. I suddenly turned an even darker shade of red! Where they making fun of me? The thought came to my mind in a flash. I walked faster, trying to hide in the shadows; but it was no use.

The pub was packed to the brim with party-goers and their prying eyes bore into mine with sly smiles and evil grins. Sitting on a barstool, I hoped and prayed that no one would notice me; but again it was no use.

“OMG! What the hell is he wearing?”

“He looks so nasty in those pants!”

“Seriously? Does he not own a mirror?”

Their words reached my ears like piercing cries although they were whispers. Why where they judging me? Why is it so wrong to be different? My embarrassment slowly, but surely turned into anger. I looked at all the different colors of the other jeans… they were all the same; varying hues of the same colors of blue and black, whereas I stood out in my red-brightness. Feeling a surge of courage, I stood from my bar-stool and danced to the music blaring out from the speakers.

To be different… What does it really mean? I had foolishly assumed that these jeans in this specific pub would accept me for who I am because they too are different… Instead of accepting me as one of them – something different and brave – they turned against me. I was hoping to seek refuge from the outside world by rushing into this pub where being different is meant to be the norm… but that night, it wasn’t so.

Once home, I heard him heave a heavy and defeated sigh as he undressed me. He lifted me up and starred into my eyes with a look that I knew it meant that it was over… He was saying good-bye. A part of me wanted to beg him not to give up on me, but I knew it was too late.

“What a waste of money,” I heard him say as he folded me. I felt a shudder go through me and a lone tear made its way down my cheek leaving a hot trail behind.

Be different… embrace your uniqueness! I wanted to shout it out to him. Don’t let others tell you how to live your life! But my words never left my lips.

He gently patted and returned me to my rightful place, and I saw the outside world one last time before he shut the wood paneled closet doors.

“So was it as fun as you always thought it would be?”

“Did he take you to that pub he always takes us? Did you enjoy the music? That DJ always knows what songs to play!”

“Come on! Why aren’t you telling us?”

Their voices bombarded my ears and I felt a lump in my throat. They wouldn’t understand what I was feeling… they weren’t as different as I am. They would have easily blended in with that crowd; they just wouldn’t understand...

“I guess people are just not ready to accept those that are different yet… even those that take pride in claiming to be unique.”

The voices stopped… I closed my somber eyes and went to sleep knowing I’ll never walk those streets again.