Being me

I’ve been called “strange” by at least 3 different people in past month. Of course, they didn’t mean it in any hurtful sense, but only jocosely. Still, one might think it improper that a person calls another “strange” only after speaking to him for a few hours. I must here admit of the role I played in instigating that playful accusation. Sometimes, I am too tired to keep up that heavy mask of decorum, and I go ahead to talk about all the queer things that spin in my queer mind. Sometimes, I don’t make sense; sometimes I pull the conversation into philosophical waters, or supply a string of metaphors of which the last would probably have lost all resemblance to the topic being discussed. The unfortunate soul listening to me can only sigh and call me “strange”.

I am quite aware that I sound strange. But it doesn’t really bother me. I used to judge some of my coevals as strange, and then I’d wonder if they were ever aware of their character being so departed from normalcy. And I also promised myself that I’ll never be “one of those strange kids”. But, behold, the cunning of fate: I am now considered “strange” by so many. Again, I must emphasize, it doesn’t really bother me (I’m not sure why I feel the need to re-emphasize this). In fact, I am quite accepting of my strangeness; because that’s who I really am, and I’m getting the chance to actually present myself as in my barest nature. People usually do not tire from being themselves; they only tire from holding up that heavy mask.

Sometimes, I suspect myself of secretly embracing the strangeness that has fitted itself into my reputation. I have a place in the world, in the horizon of other human beings, and that is, as “that strange person”. To have a place is perhaps the most satisfying to the existential self. I am no longer a piece of wood drifting in the immense darkness; I am lodged at a bank where I feel I belong. This is me, the strange boy who directs every stream into his philosophical pond, who cannot stop babbling metaphors, who is a master of non-sequitur. And I shall be nothing more than me.

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