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“She has a mind of her own. She can take care of herself.”

People say this of me. What manner of comment is that? 

Of course, I have a mind of my own. I am not aware people share minds.

My voice, my mind, my ideas and my story make me ‘me’. From my outer covering to my core.

If their logic is this then I jolly well can take care of myself at thirteen.

Let me tell you, I am the girl who never stayed within the lines in colouring books.

I'm a girl who wears my opinions on my sleeve.

I will always make a judgement based on what my eyes see and ears hear. One that often varies from what the others think.

I have a quick tongue. I will hold on to my ideas, express them and debate them.

Does disagreeing with people make me disagreeable and miles away from normal? I will live with it.

I can’t understand why I should act un-smart. If I know a walrus uses its tusk to break through ice, I will say so.

I sense many people tremble before I say or ask something as they get nervous of what is coming.

Me not skipping uncomfortable issues or skim their surface makes things sticky.

And I catch people unawares by asking questions they don't expect. 

I must admit I love a challenge. I get charged easily. 

Yet I refuse to get thrown by put downs or sharper stabs. Or say yes when I mean no.

I don’t care if I am not considered ‘likeable’.

Someone even told me I have the manners of the outhouse rat. Ha-ha.

Call me hard-headed if you will. But hard-hearted I am not. 

We see that growing up means eating yucky, congealing oatmeal and doing homework without fail.

As much as it means banging on drums and cycling downhill against the whoosh of winds.

The dare devilries we will try this evening.

For this cool cracking of the rules code, maybe we will get plumped up dessert after dinner, ice cream and jalebis?

Do you think so, too? 

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