I Will Drag All Of You Into Reality By Your Hair If I Have To

Location

50012
United States
42° 1' 28.4016" N, 93° 39' 10.1484" W

When asked to describe oneself, a lot of people misinterpret the question.

 

I am not like those other people, I am different!

 

I am not like that mindless horde, I am SPECIAL!

 

I  A M  U N I Q U E.

 

As if the question of ‘Who are you?’ is a direct CHALLENGE and only those who prove that they are, beyond a doubt, different, will survive.

 

But take a step back.

 

Get off your high horse for fifteen goddamn seconds.

 

Look around.

 

Instead of describing yourself, describe the people around you.

 

What makes them different?

 

What makes them special?

 

What makes them unique?

 

Everything and anything about them

 

And yet, nothing at all.

 

Because we’re all stupidly different. From the way we look, to the way we act, to the way we wake up, to the way we go to sleep.

 

Everyone of us is different and special and unique.

 

So nobody is.

 

Every snowflake is different!

 

Well shit, when’s the last time that you went out and examined snowflakes?

 

It’s probably been a long time.

 

I’ll bet you admired the snow outside your window, though. Just last winter. In all its collective glory.

 

Who am I?

 

I’m different. When I get up in the morning, I have a certain ritual that I go through, and it makes me very VERY uncomfortable if I don’t.

 

I have friends that I am wary around, and I don’t know how to let my guard down.

 

I worry about things that don’t matter sometimes.

 

Deep, deep, down, I’m a SUCKER for romcoms.

 

Sometimes I feel that my dreams mean something.

 

 

And I define myself by a word in the dictionary that no ordinary person knows the definition of.

 

And I’ve grown.

 

My god, have I grown.

 

I didn’t hang out much with other kids in school cause I was DIFFERENT. None of the girls or boys my age were interested in the things I was.

 

I hated how tall I was.

 

How big I was.

 

And how my hair was caught between two ethnicities and didn’t want to ever work with me. EVER.

 

So I

was apart.

 

Because I was different.

 

Until the day when I counted the differences in those around me.

 

And when I realized that I was no more different from the human race than the popular girl I hated hit me like a ton of bricks, I was shocked.

 

I am me.

 

I am different.

 

I

 

Am

 

You.

This poem is about: 
Me

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