Last night I made a statement. “I don’t want to be me anymore.”
You know what? Nothing could be further from the truth.
What I want is to stop feeling like others think there is something wrong with being me.
I have always been a passionate person. Everything I do…everything I feel…is with passion. And, similarly, I bring out passion in people. Either they passionately love me or they passionately dislike me. There really doesn’t seem to be much middle ground…probably because I, myself, never find middle ground.
But…as for me…I really, REALLY like me.
So…even when I feel like a round peg trying to fit in a square hole…I don’t wish I was square…I wish the hole was more round.
I don’t want to be like you…but I do wish you were more like me.
I wish that no matter how many times you’ve been hurt, you still find ways to love fully.
I wish that no matter how many times you’ve been betrayed, you still find ways to let people in.
I wish that no matter how many times you’ve felt judged, you choose to live a life where you refuse to sit in judgment.
I wish that you could find your inner child…I wish that you could feed that inner child with stupid jokes…as you laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of life.
I wish that you would allow yourself, with a sense of wonder, to be weird…to think the thoughts that make you even laugh at yourself…but that feed your creativity.
I wish you could do all of these things and be well…well rounded.
It is my absolute absurdity and passion…and SHEER REFUSAL to give up that makes me actually quite happy being me.
I just wish that you could see that maybe…just maybe…not only is it ok to be like me, but the world could use a little more of me.