The wind blows, and my hair tickles my cheeks. Bright red flashes in my peripheral vision as the frizzy locks sway to and fro. I sigh, picking at a scab on my knee and tuning out the revelry of children behind me.

I look up, craning my neck to see an oak tree, standing broadly. Its prodigious limbs swirl about grotesquely, entwining themselves with each other and then spreading back out individually as they grow longer. A dying leaf detaches itself, sailing triumphantly as it falls into my outstretched hands.

Perhaps someone else in my situation would think it poignant, sitting here alone, staring at a hideous old tree, but I like it here. The tree reminds me of myself. I'm not the smallest person for my age; in fact, I am close to the largest, so the tree's bizarre size is a great representation. Its tangled branches show every time it's tried to change, tried to become something different, something that it was not supposed to be, but failed. It eventually decided not to try anymore, stretching its branches out like they are supposed to grow, so the tree can be itself.

Another tree, a pine tree, doesn't appear for several hundred feet. It soon breaks out into a cluster, then an entire forest, all packed together so tightly that anyone who entered the forest would find themself lost in the labyrinth. Not only is the oak tree far away from the others, but it is a different type of tree entirely. Its leaves, its ugly brown flaws, fall away constantly for all to see; whereas, pine trees never shed their needles. They stay the exact same forever, not ever welcoming just a little change.

I am aroused from my daze for just a moment as something solid slams into my side with such impact that I lose balance, having to quickly throw my hands onto the soft grass to keep from falling over. I blink, watching a boy pick up the soccer ball that had hit me and sprint away, not apologizing or even acknowledging that I had been there. Did he even know I was there?

I reach down into the grass with my fingers, yanking out blades with such ferocity that the tearing noise of roots being ripped from the soil is more than audible over the youthful shouts. I eventually stop, now placing my fingers in the cool dirt where the grass had been. My pale skin changes color, with the temporary dark stain that told me that I would have to wash it thoroughly later to clean the dirt out of my pores.

I stand up, skipping gracefully up to the old tree. I place my right hand against the rough bark and my forehead against the back of my palm, and then I inhale the deep aroma of life. I allow my eyes to flutter closed, my long eyelashes lightly brushing my hand as I did so. My mind drifts away once again...

Now, I grow my limbs out strongly, looking back to my twists and tangles with a smile, because I know that they helped me discover who I really am. Not the ridiculous children running around behind me, swarming around the screeching and squealing swings and the deadly monkey bars, but myself. Me, staring at the ugly but beautiful tree.