the weird kid

Growing up, I think one of the biggest insults that someone could say about another person, well, besides the fact that they stinked or had cooties, was that they were “weird.”

Weird.

Since elementary school, since as long as I can remember, I’ve fought to not be “weird.”

I’ve worn fashions, styled my hair, lowered my voices, shunned my tastes in music to be “normal.”

Normal.

Anything but weird.

But, I’ve come to now accept, that my “weird” is my normal. I’ve come to accept that my “weird” is what makes me beautiful.

And I’m in love with that.

STOP.

 

 

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