DAILY PROMPT: THE OUTSIDERS
Tel us about the experience of being outside, looking in — however you’d like to interpret that
‘Scuse me while I roll around laughing hysterically. Me? An outsider? Far easier to pick the whoop whoop and flashing lights marking rare moments of inclusion from the general peripheral drift.
Boarding school takes the cake, though. That was misfit prime time. A fat, intelligent, naive loner – all the things you shouldn’t be to survive incarceration with 300 other pubescent females clawing their way to identity. I sank like a stone – helped along by one particularly ruthless and vicious little madam who saw me as the obstacle to her immediate ambition: her name in gold on the Dux board. And me too naive to understand that she cared so much.
Drama school, on the other hand – and years in stage management: we were all weird, there. Heaven on a stick.