Weird is My Normal

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This was written as a part of Jess Morrow’s Invincible Summer Writing eCourse I took in 2012.  I thought I would share it once again today.

“It’s okay to be weird. Maybe your weird is my normal. Who’s to say? I think it’s an attitude.” -Lady Gaga

lady gagashe might be on to something
what if weird is normal?

what if it isn’t?

feeling different
feeling alone
feeling weird
not wanting anyone to get too close

what would they think of me?
would they like me?
like what i like?
want to spend time with me?

having been told
i was foolish if i thought
i REALLY had any friends
foolish if i thought
anyone really liked me

could that be true?
he knew me as well as anyone
he was supposed to love me
nurture me
why would he lie?

what if he isn’t right?
what if she is?
lady gaga
up on stage
in all her glory
doing whatever the hell she wants
not caring what anyone thinks
is she doing it for attention?
is it who she really is?
who cares?
she doesn’t care what you or i think
she only cares about what she wants
what works for her

what would my life look like today
if i had taken that same approach
if i had not played the victim
to a mean old crabby man
who’s only goal seemed to be to hurt others
to hurt me at least

how could he possibly be right?
he was angry
he had his own issues
what if all the things he said to me
were actually the things he was afraid
were true for himself?
did he worry others didn’t like him?
did he wonder if others thought he was weird?

i think he did
i think he was in pain every day of his life
i think he didn’t mean to hurt others
he just did the best he could
with what he knew

what if my light shined so brightly
he felt a need to shut it off?
what if i was talented and beautiful and whole
so he needed to chop me in half
purely for his own benefit?

what if i could forgive?
what if i could forgot?
what if i could say the words to him
that i longed to hear from him?
would that change his life?
could he forgive whoever had hurt him?
could he forget?
could he feel whole?

would he be sorry
for the damage he’d done?
the pattern he’d passed down
through the family tree?
would he take it all back?
would he allow us all to shine?
without feeling a need to snuff out the flame?

maybe not
it’s time to move on
to shine
to know that i am not damaged goods
to know that i am whole
to know that i am the only one
who’s definition of weird matters
i get to do what i want now
i get to decide what’s right
just like she did

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