Set to some overly touching tragic-story music like they do in movies:
Ever since I was little, I’ve been different. I didn’t
realize that I was for a long time because I was just me and my own thinking
was all I knew so I had nothing to compare to. My parents didn’t push the
issue, which I think is pretty cool of them, and were happy enough that I was
healthy and not missing any limbs or anything. But then school came along, and
with it peers, and all of a sudden there was a whole group of kids that were
not like me that I couldn’t help but compare myself to.
At first I didn’t care that I wasn’t the same as them; I was
me and I saw no reason to change that just because they thought I was weird. But
it didn’t take very long to start trying to squash down the otherness, even if
I didn’t truly change who I was, and never bring it up or try to hedge around
it or change the subject when confronted. It was just easier that way. Sometimes
the creeping thought even presented itself that maybe they were better than me,
that maybe I was less than them somehow.
Then I got a little older, and the other kids still thought
I was a freak, but I didn’t care so much about what the world thought anymore,
at least not for myself, and I started to not be so embarrassed by my weirdy
preferences. After all, who were they to dictate what I’m allowed to like or
not like? But still I never brought it up and tried to just ignore it for the
sake of not being given a hard time, as I had been and knew I would continue to
be.
More years later, and I’m still the same different as I was
when I was a kid. Guess it’s not just some phase or something after all. But
now I’m starting to see that this freak characteristic of mine is maybe not
such a bad thing. Maybe, even, it’s something I can not just tolerate about
myself, but something I can be proud of.
I don’t care who knows it, even if they judge me for it. And
so I declare: I am Bailey, and I don’t like peanut butter. Or chocolate. Or any
combination thereof. Think what you want, but I’m happy with my so-called “deprived”
self.
That's cool, Bailey. I love peanut butter and I love chocolate, and I really love them together. But I especially love that you don't! Don't be afraid of the things that make you you. Because that's the stuff that awesome is made of. :)
ReplyDeleteIf awesome is made of peanut butter and chocolate, then I don't want any part of it.
DeleteOr cheese which makes you especially weird :P
ReplyDeleteOh...um...yeah... But don't tell anyone okay? I'm still working on the self-acceptance stuff in that area and I'm just not comfortable with people knowing yet.
DeleteI think there's a tacky country song with the lyrics, "love is a journey, not a destination." Don't like the song but I like the sentiment of the lyrics. Especially self love. It can take time to realize how special and wonderful we are and, even when we do, we still change and evolve and so, too, must our love of self.
ReplyDelete