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“What it Feels like to be Tall” by Atom
Everyone wants attention. At my school, I’m the tall kid. On my basketball team, I’m the tall white kid. The football coach begs me to play while saliva drips from his mouth. Although I receive attention for being tall, it’s the unwanted kind. A cute blond girl came up to me in the hallway and says:
“Hey, I know you.”
I turned to say something, but was interrupted with:
“Your really tall, you know.”
I replied with the only thing I could say;
“Yes, I know.”
Then she said something like:
“How does it feel to be tall?”
I could’ve told her that she was one of the many people each day to harass me about my height. I also could have told her how it feels to be a tall person in a short world.
About how I would sleepily hit my head on the school bus ceiling every morning.
About how I would have to sit sideways in my seat so my knees wouldn’t be cramped, thus occasionally tripping students and teachers walking down the aisle.
I could've told her about how in 8th grade, a girl drew a picture of the entire class and the second tallest person was up to my knee. It was blatantly obvious that my head was in the clouds. Bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?
I could’ve remarked about how I have to hide my feet so people wouldn’t point and goggle at my size 16’s. I could've told her exactly how many people in the school had dandruff while I loomed over crowds.
To this girl in particular, I shrugged and walked on.
As a kid, playing hide and go seek was always a burden, as I had limited hiding spaces. My friends hid in cabinets and closets while I resorted to hiding under the bed like a buffoon.
When my relatives came down from New York, they would tell my fraternal twin brother “You’ve gotten so big!” and when they turned to me, there was stunned silence.
Growing up, people would mistake me for being 5 years older than I really was. I’ll never forget my 2nd grade teacher - who had to look up to talk to me. Picking up again in 6th grade, I would look down to my teachers to talk to them.
I feel bad for the person who sits behind me at the movie theater.
4 years old and tall enough to ride the roller coaster.
8 years old, able to enter the weight lifting gym.
10 years old, able to wear my dad’s clothes.
13 years old, able to order alcohol from restaurants.
At 14 years old, I was able to scrape dust off the ceiling with my fingertips without ever leaving the ground.
If the ceiling collapsed, I’d be the first to die.
At 15, people stopped asking me “Do you play basketball?” and started asking me “Where do you play basketball?”
The phrase “Act your age, not your shoe size” bears no meaning to me. I am meaningless, and eventually I will die. And when I die, my coffin will not fit.
Kind of random, my friend typed it up exactly as i spoke it to have a more comedic feel. Tell me what you think.
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Originally Posted by Atom
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