"So...Is life hard for you?"

"Huh?"

"You know, you being different."

"Different? In what ways?"

"You come from a place where bombs are made. You're a terrorist and shouldn't be here. Your face is ugly, too," the monster from the schoolyard spat out to me.

Terrorist. Terrorist. It echoed through my mind, and every second that foul word inched deeper and deeper into my confidence, wondering when people would stop asking those kinds of questions. Wondering when they will stop judging me because of my appearance.

I was five. A five year old who loved herself. A child that would take every second possible to look in the mirror and admire the attributes she possessed. But now, that the monsters stomped their one sided views all over me, I am only lucky if I can name a single feature that I appreciate.

The tears containing every insult pierced my delicate cheeks, leaving behind them the misery. I thought I was the problem. I would stare atmy skin, my hair, and my eyes. My mind was spiraling with questions I couldn't even grasp. I never directed any harm to them. Why are they doing this now? Is this the truth?

"Do I truly look like that?" I would mumble.

"Is my face that awful?"

I wasted so much time feeding those monsters my pain and turmoil, I ended up not paying attention to the beauty I possessed. What did I do to deserve this? That question ran through my mind over and over again. I would retrace my steps in search of a logical explanation. It wasn't a surprise that I couldn't find it, because those peoples' decisions and twisted minds' were illogical. There was no reason to pick at me like a scab. Pick at me until my emotions dripped down into a puddle of despair.

In my world that used to be filled with endless possibilites, was soon filled with endless torment.

"Hey gorilla arms."

Please don't bomb us," They would snicker.

"Wait I thought you were a boy."

I thought I was ruined, a flaw in society. They finally broke me. The emotions were overbearing. I stopped eating and slept my days away. My parents would ask if I was depressed. I never answered.

To be honest, I am hurt, confused, and insecure. But depressed? No, and I am not in denial either. I am just a little damaged, aren't we all? Aren't we all scarred in some way? Yet, we put on a brave face and continue on, because that's life. Life is about learning to move on from situations. To let go and be free. It's not easy though, no one said it would be. I just wish that weren't true.

It took time. It took hours each day of reassuring myself that soon the sun would come up and light my path. And my circumstances improved tremendously. Now, I have enough confidence to joke about stereotypes and looks (even though I am flawless).

Whenever I look in the mirror, I don't see a creature I despise, but a human I cherish. A human with qualities that will soon benefit the world, or so I think.

I see myself far away from this place; into an endless galaxy that I wouldn't mind disappearing into. I wouldn't mind leaving behind those nasty comments that clouded my vision, or the misconceptions of middle eastern people. I wouldn't mind just staring into Space, because out there, there's potential for greatness.

People say the world is what you make of it. I try to believe that, when times are difficult and I am questioning my life's decisions. Sometimes it's hard though. It's hard being a warrior at such a young age, and fighting a battle that shouldn't exist. But, I want to continue fighting, because I want my world to be something I am proud of.