I once was the victim of a tree. Tall, with needle like leaves, waving on a spread of strong, unbending branches. I was his offspring. The only seed fallen from him, that had sprouted into life. Now a sapling. Not in age, but in size. I stood there, a shadow of him, under his sprawling shadow, where not even grass grew. Many people were awed by him. Sat under his shelter and gorged on the fruits of his labour. They looked at me and felt pity. Wondered how could from such a mighty tree could a shrivelled thing come to be. I felt their scorn. It turned into thorns that pricked any who came close. My bark grew thicker, rougher to the touch. My fruits were bitter and foul smelling, unfit for eating. Then one day a woman with weeping wounds came by. She plucked one of them, made a paste out of it, and applied it on her broken skin. When she was healed, she kissed me and said, you are the greatest tree in the world, I will nurture you and revel in your shade till my days are done. In that moment my heart swelled with pride knowing I had become more than my father’s son. It was the start of me growing into my true self.