Freak vs. Whitebread
I want to be funky. I'm not very good at it. I put pink streaks in my hair and painted my fingernails metallic green and got some black framed glasses and some Mary Jane's and a peacoat. It's not very funky. It's fake funky. I don't know how to be funky. I want to be an individual, who wears her own clothes that no one else would ever wear and has her own hair and style and all that stuff. Instead I look like everybody else. A freak in mall clothing.
I'm always wondering what's wrong with me, and maybe that's it. I'm stuck between normalcy and freakhood. I don't fit in anywhere. Too weird for regular people and too whitebread for freaks.
I wish I had a home.
It would be easier to be funky and look nutty. Unfortunately, I was raised by a whitebread town, and they will always be with me. Right now I'm just weird enough for normal people to look at me like some exotic animal at the zoo. They point and look, but they don't really want to know anything else. They're only there for the freak show. And my circus past doesn't help matters much.
See, the comfort in looking funky is that it's not "attractive". The garden variety SoCal blonde chick will look sideways at freak girl and go on listening to Britney or Christina or Ashlee or Avril or whatever it is those chicks listen to. And the guys do too. I am surrounded by men constantly; at school, at work, etc. No one asks me out. Actually, no one talks to me at all. I'm sort of like that fly on the wall that they notice during a boring lecture, but they forget about it before too long. I don't need camouflage.
At least if I were funky I'd have an excuse to be ignored. They would be afraid, or put off, or just weirded out. And that would be just fine. But I know that I look like everyone else. That's why no one remembers my face until at least the third or fourth meeting, and can't remember my name until much later. I once had a professor for an entire year who couldn't remember my name. I was the only girl in a class of 5 people.
It's depressing to be so dispensible. So unmissable. (I know that's not a word, but I couldn't think of a real one, so back off) And this is really the root of all evil in my life. Not being remembered, needed, loved, intriguing, welcomed, accepted, or wanted. Dead weight.
Too normal for freaks.
Too freakish for normal folks.
I'm always wondering what's wrong with me, and maybe that's it. I'm stuck between normalcy and freakhood. I don't fit in anywhere. Too weird for regular people and too whitebread for freaks.
I wish I had a home.
It would be easier to be funky and look nutty. Unfortunately, I was raised by a whitebread town, and they will always be with me. Right now I'm just weird enough for normal people to look at me like some exotic animal at the zoo. They point and look, but they don't really want to know anything else. They're only there for the freak show. And my circus past doesn't help matters much.
See, the comfort in looking funky is that it's not "attractive". The garden variety SoCal blonde chick will look sideways at freak girl and go on listening to Britney or Christina or Ashlee or Avril or whatever it is those chicks listen to. And the guys do too. I am surrounded by men constantly; at school, at work, etc. No one asks me out. Actually, no one talks to me at all. I'm sort of like that fly on the wall that they notice during a boring lecture, but they forget about it before too long. I don't need camouflage.
At least if I were funky I'd have an excuse to be ignored. They would be afraid, or put off, or just weirded out. And that would be just fine. But I know that I look like everyone else. That's why no one remembers my face until at least the third or fourth meeting, and can't remember my name until much later. I once had a professor for an entire year who couldn't remember my name. I was the only girl in a class of 5 people.
It's depressing to be so dispensible. So unmissable. (I know that's not a word, but I couldn't think of a real one, so back off) And this is really the root of all evil in my life. Not being remembered, needed, loved, intriguing, welcomed, accepted, or wanted. Dead weight.
Too normal for freaks.
Too freakish for normal folks.
posted by Ocean | 1:15 AM
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