I have always wondered the same thing, no matter how old I was.  I always wondered, “What’s so wrong with being me?”  Society has become something twisted and has made those within it into creatures with impenetrable biases and opinions.  Now, when I can really stop and think about it, it’s really starting to hit home.

When I was younger the problem was that I didn’t like barbie dolls, styling my hair, or the color pink like the other girls my age.  Instead, I liked to play in the dirt, reading books, and the color green.  I didn’t like the stories about princes and princesses.  I liked the ones with dinosaurs.  Instead of watching shows like “The Princess and the Pauper” with barbie doll people, I liked watching the History Channel or Animal Planet where such pretty things didn’t exist.  Instead of being thin and pretty, I was chubby and almost always covered in some sort of dirt or the slime we had made in the daycare.  For that, the other girls my age used to point their fingers and talk about how that wasn’t normal.  And back then, I didn’t think about it because if I did, I would have almost certainly done something stupid.

When I was a few years older, I didn’t like braiding hair or playing hopscotch with the other girls at recess.  My best friend was a boy who had been labeled an outcast, and we used to play with the mud and rocks and dirt or shoot spitballs at each other.  I loved to read and write, too.  But that wasn’t “normal.”  Again, those who belonged in society with their opinions and stereotypes had labeled me as abnormal.  I began to think about it because it was wrong, or at least that was what I began to think.

Now, I can really think about these things.  I like anime and manga, and I like to read and write and learn… which I’m pretty sure translates to “nerd alert” in high school student.  The fact that I wear glasses and have high grades along with the fact that I get along well with teachers doesn’t help.  I tend to wear baggy “boy clothes” like old worn out sweatshirts, logo tees, and beat up converse instead of brand new name brand clothing that costs me a fortune.  I don’t like to gossip about how the cheer captain and that senior on the varsity football team broke up after she cheated on him, even though the guy was also going out with her best friend.  I also have never had a boyfriend because that just would complicate things.  And all of that translates to “not normal” and “nerd.”

There’s also the fact that my two best friends are gay and bisexual.  That isn’t normal either apparently.  Everyone goes on about how it’s great to have a gay best friend, but they don’t really say that if you do.  They think it’s weird and then you have the issue of those nicknames they call your friends due to opinions that society had put in their heads.  When that happens, you are labeled even more abnormal because you don’t laugh like everyone else.
And don’t get me started on physical appearence!  If you are anything over 120 pounds with a perfect, make-up caked face, you are not normal.  You’re an outcast.  If you have acne, you apparently haven’t tried hard enough to be one of those Proactiv models in those TV commercials.  If you don’t wear skin tight jeans and Hollister shirts, you’re not normal.  If you don’t wear Vans, you’re not normal.  If you don’t have impeccable hair, you’re not normal.  And you know what?  That describes me right there.  Not normal.

Now, everyone says that normal is boring, but they don’t act like it.  They pick on abnormalities and beat the thought of you being abnormal into you.  And you know what?  It hurts.  I’m old enough to stop and think about it now, and I’m not the only one.  I’m not the only one who thinks that.  So, I have one last question.

“What’s so wrong with being me?”