on being “different”

i am a freak.. a weirdo… an outcast…. i have never fit in anywhere..

i have red and black hair… i am part boy part girl, i kiss whoever will kiss me. 

i write poetry for a living even though i am dislexic

i don’t dress according to any fashion standards. i make my own.

i have an eyebrow ring and a tattoo of my favourite band

i ride my bike that is painted rainbow even though it is bent and broken from an accident.

I have depression, anxiety and post traumatic stress disorder and sometimes they fuck up my life. sometimes they live along side me and i’m ok with them.

I am not conventional.   society sets conventions for how we live, and some of us don’t meet them. Some of us are artists, accordion players and human statues, piano players and cabaret singers, writers or labeled “disabled” because their bodies don’t work as they should or our minds don’t work as they should.  Many of the beautiful people i meet are depressed because they believe society rejects them.  I accept each and every one of you, how you are, where you are, who you are.  The mould was set to be broken, and one day we will set it.   Those who have suits, 9-5 jobs will want to wear red hair and be tattooed.

don’t believe you are any less because you are viewed as less.

i fucking love you. whoever you are.

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