I may be a bit odd or weird. I may change, I may not. For now, as long as weirdo wants to be weird, I’ll keep going that way, oscillating between being the odd self and a functional member of society.
On the one end is the dysfunctional, self-indulged and absorbed individual. In tune with an inner world and absolved from the outer, marginally capable to survive as a human being. On the other end are the homogeneous expectations of society, ever so rapidly generalized and standardized by newsfeeds and instagrams. A handful of cherry-picked bits; stories full of gaps to fill with your imagination and insecurities, a moving target you’ll fail to fulfill time and again.
Somewhere in between, the weird is free from judgment and expectations, tracing its own path in the in-between. The weird is a perpetual balancing act between the self and society, choosing the tradeoffs, and choosing, time and again, to be oneself.
Weird to others, but true to oneself, perhaps then being weird is not all that ‘weird’. And aren’t we all a little weird, odd, different and unique in our own way?