Moving on.

I’ve recently come to the conclusion that I’m a little odd, or different. I have spent most of my life trying to conform to what ever is considered normal and failing at it. I have always had a hard time fitting in, and if it weren’t for a propensity for situational assessment, I probably would have been incapable of having a social life. With this conclusion of being an oddity came the illation (not elation, not the same look it up) that I’m ok with it, in fact I prefer it. I spend far too much of my present dwelling on a past filled with self-doubt that was fueled by my unfortunate choices in companionship. I’ve realized that my life has been filled with friends and lovers who saw me for what they thought I could be and not what I am. People who thought they could help me to be better, when in fact their idea of better actually meant, “more like them”. My life has been a waiting room for those who would use it as a temporary distraction until their real life showed up. Then they would wipe their feet and merrily skip off forgetting to shut the door. I’m tired of twelve am phone calls and chat conversations full of regret and “what ifs” from people who realized my value far too late. I wish I had been able in my youth to embrace my quirkiness, maybe if I’d grown up in a community with less bigotry and judgment I would have. But now that I have embraced it, I’m going to run with it. I enjoy my eclectic, weird, even possibly eccentric personality.  To any that I wasn’t good enough for in the past, I’m sure as hell not good enough for you now. Wait… Strike that, reverse it.  Kirk out.