It's a true story, so it doesn't really have a title.
When I was attending college, I encountered the same major problem I had faced at every school and social situation previously - I was physically a freak. At least, to the humans I was. I very distinctly wasn't one of them, and I couldn't possibly change my appearance to hide that. At that time in my life, I still didn't know what I was... I only knew I wasn't human.
At first I thought my entire time there would be a nightmare. And it was difficult at first. I spent a few nights crying alone, unable to sleep without company but terrified of telling anyone. My roommates would invite me out in the evening and I'd decline in misery, exhausted and beaten by a day of struggling to socialise. But after a while it got better. I was a curiosity, but in a good way (sometimes). My friends, the people who were accustomed to my strange appearance and personality quirks, almost used me as a status symbol amongst themselves... it was a matter of pride to be seen with me or invite me into their beds. Most of them were girls.
But outside that circle, wide though it may have been, people still gawked. I tried to resign myself to it, to get used to it, but sometimes when I was stressed out from schoolwork or otherwise in a lousy mood, it was extremely unnerving. I tried not to go anywhere without one or more of my friends; it just felt better to turn to a friendly face when the strange ones were all staring.
Then came winter. I originated in a tropical clime, some of you may remember, and my body was specifically designed to release heat, fast. I can't recall if winters there were milder, the same, or more extreme as here in the northeast US, but they felt pretty damn uncomfortable to me at the time. I had to bundle up just to survive.
Well, I discovered that if I covered myself in all my winter accessories, I got far fewer stares. I just looked like someone exceptionally prepared to endure the low temperatures. My facial features and skin color were still apparent, but they alone seemed to make me much less of a curiosity. I liked that, and I started to leave at least my hat on even indoors.
Well... it backfired. You see, now when I met new people on campus, they became familiar with my physical differences that still showed, but I was walking around with a great big secret. I might be well on my way to making a cool new friend, and then one day the library is exceptionally warm, and I take off my hat and gloves... and hear "Oh my god" or some such, from my new best friend, whose eyes look like they're going to pop out onto my lap. Suddenly I had graduated from "funny-looking but all right" to "alien freak". Bleh.
Even worse, the more "fun-loving" among my friends (possibly the ones whose favorite party game was "get Tocosar drunk") caught on quickly, and when they saw their chance, built up, in that way people who think they're funny do, the Very Big Secret Under Tocosar's Hat. That elicited less shock, because the new people started to expect something freakish, but was several times more humiliating for me.
It wasn't even that my ears were pointed, so much as that they were big. Mother Evolution had a reason for that, and that reason was moot once I left the rainforest. But I didn't know it at the time. Also, and I know this sounds weird in a place where my hair type is common, but nobody but nobody had hair my color or texture. I really was, in many ways, a person who could not possibly be related to any known races. Few people noticed my "claws" right away, but when they did, more "wow"s.
I eventually came to the conclusion that being open and straightforward with people from the first was the best and safest policy. No secrets. Walking into a room where everyone gets a full glimpse of me in all my freakish glory ended up being much better than going around "in disguise". And as tiring as they were, the initial questionings were more bearable than the shock and ridicule of people who were simply gleeful at finding out a "secret".
Initial questionings went like this:
| Janice: | Hey, Pete, I want you to meet Tocosar. |
| Tocosar: | Hi Pete. |
| Pete: | Hey. Whoa. You're.... you're not human, are you? |
| Tocosar: | No, not exactly. |
| Pete: | What are you... if you don't mind me asking? |
| Toc: | I'm not sure, actually. |
| Pete: | How do you figure that? |
| Toc: | Raised by humans. I know there are others of my kind somewhere, but I haven't actually met any yet. |
| Pete: | Cool. So, you going on a search to find your lost family after college? |
| Toc: | I might... |
| Pete: | You'd think they'd be easy to find, what with... you know... |
| Toc: | Yeah, maybe. So hey, what's your major? Wouldn't happen to be anthropology, would it? |
| Pete: | Haha, no, I'm a Sociology major. |
| Toc: | Cool. Going out to teach the world tolerance and eradicate racism? |
| Pete: | *grin* Nah, I'm more interested in theoretical sociology. |
| Toc: | Really? You're missing out on the best part, then - all the people. I'd imagine going out and getting a first-hand taste of the great diversity in our society is the highlight of any sociology career. |
| Pete: | Uh... yeah. So what's your major? |
| Toc: | Biology. Yeah, I'm one of those people who cut up cats to look at their guts, and study all about unicellular life forms deadly to humans. *huge grin* |
Now that Pete and I had everything on the table, so to speak, we could progress with a normal friendship... provided he didn't make some evasive excuse about a class he was late to and run like hell.
Took me almost all four years to be able to do that, but once I learned, it was worth it.
The end.
Tocopelli, not your average tribal storyteller