From the outside looking in, it appeared to be a charmed life. A fairy tale. Living in the “golden world,” a collection of grand castle-like houses that formed a neighborhood beset with mystery and gaze to the little boy who was inside looking out. Images of riding bikes and rotating sprinklers surrounded as this same boy looked out at the sky wondering of the world beyond the one he knew.
I always knew I was different. I never knew why and never could understand why but I always knew. For as long as I can remember, I always live my life along the margins. Some may think I was delayed in development; I tend to think I was just ahead of my time.
I never colored inside the lines. I never stayed in my seat. I never stopped wandering. I never stopped imagining. I never stopped dreaming. My dreams and thoughts often found themselves along the edges. I asked the outlandish questions and often had to find my own answers.
My introduction to different came at an early age. I remember being the left-handed kid in class amongst all the right handed kids. I remember being very energetic and often times over attentive. I didn’t understand what it meant at the time but I remember the other kids not wanting to be around me as a result.
My never seeming to fit in often locked me in target with my classmates. I often found myself alone writing and drawing the first thing that came to my mind. My classmates, unable to understand, didn’t want to be bothered with me. My teachers, unable to understand, never knew whether to encourage or discourage such questionable behavior. My parents, unable to understand, worried if and when I would grow out of this “phase.”
All of this hostility made me question why I was the way I was. Leading me to believe I was cursed. Perpetually flawed. I remember praying to God wanting to be “normal”, wanting to have blonde hair, blue eyes, have two married parents, a two story house- the fairy tale I had seen on TV and read in books. I remember repressing my curiosity and individuality, wishing it would go away. I wanted so hard to belong. I wanted so hard to be “in”, not “out."
I often have this daydream where I see myself as a child. I want to run up to him and tell them everything will be okay because I always did, and still do, wonder. I often wondered what my adult self would be like; would I be married? Would I have children? Would I have the dream job I always wanted? Most importantly, would I be happy?
In hindsight, my rareness was my ticket to the outside world. Without ever leaving my porch and with one thought, I had been all around the world and back. I still believe that same curious little boy still lives within me somewhere. A reminder of my ticket inside the outside.
