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I was born into a world of walking people, but I am not one of them. In the very beginning I belonged, loved and lived in a world of people like myself, even though my parents and family walked. From the very beginning I learned that I was less than them because I was not of their world. I would always be as long as I stayed with my people. My parents wanted me to be more and took me to a normal school. I didn't like being there. The people didn't want me. I didn't complain it made my mom happy. I liked her happy so I stayed. I also wanted to be better. They tried to isolate me. They hurt me and I don't think I'll ever heal the cuts are too deep.
Now I stand on a line between two worlds: one of walkers that opened their doors but never really allowed me in. I spent most of my life adapting to them. The other is a world I once belonged, but when I left so long ago I left that world for good. They resent me for going to the walking world and even though I visit them, I really don't belong. Even though I pretend belonging I'm really set apart. So I stand between the worlds seemingly all alone. looking in windows but never getting in. The best of both worlds is what I got, and that is good I know. Sometimes though I want to go back to the world I belonged, and loved, and lived but no longer is that world my home and that I have to live with.
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