My name is Kendra. I am 5 years old. The kids at school pick at me because I'm the biggest kid in the class. They say I'm different. That's all I know. Is what other people say. I don't know I'm allowed to know myself. I research the books, and the looks in others peoples eyes and try to be who they want me to be.
I have a pony, no one else has a pony, they have each other, and I think I'm not special because I'm not like them. I don't see how lucky I am, just how distant I am. I learn to talk to the walls, to the air.
My name is Kendra, I am 10 Years. There aren't friends in my life. Only my mom and dad. When people come over I sit with the adults. The kids in my house play with each other, at parties and potlucks. I sit with my mom and her friends. Learn how to be 40. When we're not at school we're at the local shelter, another mile between me and my classmates. The adults at the shelter don't realize they're my only connection to humans. We too are different. I learn to talk to the walls, to the air.
My name is Kendra I am 40 years old. But I never survived the teenage years. The person I was, as a child, was so different than who I was at 20 and 30. It made me sick, emotional dark and sticky, tired all the time in this constant push and pull. I was told I could be anything I wanted to be, so I tired to be everything, and the person, everyone else wanted. SO I'm 40 going on 12, always 12.
So I have my favorite spot, in the sun porch, a glassed in front room that is perfect in the early morning as the sun crawls up over the corner of the house and shines pink through the window.
My favorite space has 2 cats and a piano; As I learn to love them, I learn to love myself. Like a 12 year old, over and over again; A 12 year old and her kittens.
Today I woke up and looked at my hands and my heart, I don't look at my face. I love me as I am in my imagination. I can't bear to hear other people say no to my friendship, because I am different.
Today I woke up after a long night with friends my own age, I woke up with another set of hands, another beating heart, beside me. He looked into my face and said I was beautiful and I believed him. And then he left. I talked to the walls, to the air.
My name is Kendra, my favorite is love. And I must be growing up. 40 Going on 40. I am different and that's OK.
I've never said that before.