Friday, August 10, 2012

Bitter Youth

You wouldn't know it if you saw me; I'm a lower-middle class white American. But I've some how some way always found myself the minority wherever I've been. I've been too poor. I've been too rich. I've even been too white. But I've never felt uncomfortable until I've moved into an all Jewish senior building.

I feel glares burning angsty hate against my back whenever I walk to my car. I see the blinds rattle closed when I catch a glimpse of the ghost watching me swim in the community pool. They're telling me I'm not wanted here. They're plotting against the youth. Against the kid in 120.

They ask me to move my car a few inches to the left.

Now a few to the right.

"I can't get out of here when I'm backing out." They say 

"It's a regulation parking space, you can make it work." I tell them.

My next door neighbor refuses to greet me when I walk by. To him, refusal of my existence is easier. I'm going to outlast you- I think to myself.

I'm going to outlast you all

And maybe that's why they hate me. Maybe that's why they don't talk to me. Why they share glances at my back and bitch about me in the laundry room.

"These new kids, they have no respect. They leave their clothes in the machines for hours and pretend like it's nobody's business!"

I startled them walking in. I walked in just as my machine turned off. Grabbed my clothes and shook my head. Do they want me to babysit the washer now?

They want me to slip up, but I won't.

I'm going to win this game.

I'm going to outlast them all.

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