Artistically Gifted

As a boy, I’d gaze closely at the reflection in windows or mirrors to look at my face. Both the subtle and blunt hostility emanating from my peer group inevitably sowed self-doubt. What made school life even more irksome was trying to decipher what triggered this selective contempt. Why were only some children targeted? Why were others favored? Was it my darker skin, my slower speech or my hesitancy?

In order to psychologically survive in this antagonistic environment, I grew up out of touch with my emotions. By example, I learned to feel pain as little as possible. At least on the outside. I battled silently seeking to understand what made me different. To complicate matters, communication was miniscule in my family of origin. Thus, I felt ashamed of myself most of the time, though I acted cool and tried to pretend none of this was having an effect upon me.

In order to find kindred souls I travelled across time and distance. Along the way I met Charlotte Bronte. I found it at once remarkably soothing to connect with someone who resonated what I was experiencing. Through each word, each phrase, she taught me how to value my highly sensitive nature.
iNtuitiveFEeling iNtuitiveFEeling
56-60, M
Dec 15, 2012