Freaks

I’ve always felt like a freak. Not fitting in, so different from the others. Already as a child, I felt that difference. Sitting in an abyss of fear and loneliness. Not rebelling, never rebelling, not even as a teenager. But always feeling like I was living in the twilight zone, between the worlds. Waiting for the bark to take me to Avalon. I dreamed of having a blue crescent moon etched into my forehead. I even wrote about it, in bed, secretly, never showing it to anyone. Writing about passion and love, already feeling too much, but having lived so little.

Now I’m grown up but I still feel different. But I know now that we are many to feel that way. We are all different, we all have our history. I don’t discriminate. Everyone is worthy.

Kings and Queens.

There’s a quality of legend about freaks. Like a person in a fairy tale who stops you and demands that you answer a riddle. Most people go through life dreading they’ll have a traumatic experience. Freaks were born with their trauma. They’ve already passed their test in life. They’re aristocrats.

Diane Arbus