“Write something that someone told you about yourself, that you never forgot.”
This is an easy question.
“Weird” would be the answer. People told me many things, mainly mean the same; weird.
Freak, unique, different, abnormal.
“But it’s a positive thing, you being unique,” said one of my colleague. Then I accepted it as a compliment.
The thing is sometimes I don’t understand my weirdness, from which part?
Some say it looks on how I react to things. The way I act when something happens. The way I do random stuff.
Some say it appears when I talk. I speak and explain differently.
Some say it is all on my mind. I think differently.
I would just accept those all as a compliment. I know I am weird.
Mark Twain once said, “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.”
Being different means being the minor. I already reached the time where I ignore people’s gazes whenever I do something weird.