The Playground’s Ordeal

By | September 11, 2013

mots-1

Dreading the moment the coach calls out to them to spilt into teams, she fidgeted in her wake, not exactly sure what to do with her hands. What was she doing with her hands a moment ago? When she wasn’t so aware of the fact that the time has come for the ultimate popularity battle?

They were on the playground with the coach. They were forming teams, again. She hated nothing more than the team forming. She was first at everything yet she was always last to be remembered, or chosen, or invited to join something. In a playground where people chose their peers for how well they mesh together, she was always overlooked like she was made of vapour and couldn’t possibly exist, or feel. She never really belonged anywhere, never entirely fit in, and as time goes by and allegiances were formed and broken, she got nothing to offer in exchange to be included.

She knew, without doubt, that the moment that coach’s whistle blows she would be the only one standing there on her own. Looking longingly at each tightly knit team, bearing the weight of those lucky ones who never had to worry about being chosen for a team. Some looked on, smirking. Others had a hint of pity in their eyes, pity usually being the most humiliating vibe she could feel beneath her skin. What would she give, to be remembered, to be chosen? Was it a curse, to be so different to the point of being unrecognisable, or was it a gift in disguise? A gift she wasn’t willing to give up, and a an ordeal on days like this dry hot morning in the wretched playground.

The coach’s whistle blowed, she took a deep breath, and ran away from the field…


6 Responses to “The Playground’s Ordeal”

  1. daggero says:

    Aha another great post , is it the season changes , or your creativty is kicking back in. Anway well done

  2. Eiman says:

    Well, I believe it is neither of the two. It is simply because some people are stupid, they cannot deal with unique individuals. Thank God there are other people in other places who do not care if you are different.
    Your story applies on me nowadays. I am the weird girl with the hijab and dark skin who lives in a Jew’s neighbourhood. She goes every day to the gym and have to swallow all the dirty looks from everyone when she pulls her scarf away and take off her large sweater. Her dark long fair shiny hair, her Arabic body shape with its extremely tiny waste (according to the coach she never saw anything as tiny in her life) and her colourful training gear make her more different. Everyday, she is the only person who is left out during the group conversation with the coach, why? well, they think because she has dark skin plus the veil she cannot speak English.. Ha ha ha…. the look on their faces when they realize I am PhD student is priceless !!! … Oh, so what country are you from again? hah, where is that!! (really!! you think it is your world only!!) hehehe….
    Tell your girl from the story keep going and never mind, because unique things come in unique packaging 😀

    • danderma says:

      Then you are literally like the girl in the playground. Why is it that people tends to shun the ones that look different? To encourage people to become unique individuals and draw their own path while at the same time singling them out for being different had a detention, it’s called hypocrisy!

      Totally agree, but sometimes the girl from the story does get too lonely especially :)

  3. Dee says:

    as a kid waiting to be chosen was one of the hardest moments of my life! even if i get chosen first its not worth the pressure and insecurties u might feel in these few seconds..
    growing up and being in this position is even worse..
    i hope i never stand last ..

    • danderma says:

      Totally agree, even if you do get chosen first the situation itself isn’t very pleasant and whether we like it or not there is always someone who will be chosen last. May you always be chosen firs :)