Being that “odd” – in quotation mark not because it has a different meaning, but because it is simply different.

(Other perspectives) An odd starts its journey. 

I am too used to being an odd that I gradually forget how to blend in. 

And sometimes the Devil in me say because I’m too weak that I try to be a different kind. 

I have never bothered. But oftentimes I would stop and ask why never had my choice been chosen also by someone else. Why never had my thoughts been understood by another odd. 

I have met people who love me just because I am who I am. But I also have encountered those who say, “It is beautiful the way it is,” just to stop me from pursuing more, from satisfying my own desires. The changes on a person’s face when I say what I want to do remind me every time to be secretive about what I love, so that I can prevent other people from discouraging me. 

It is hard to find someone that truly understands. Before, I thought seeing more of the world will give way to more opportunities for me to meet “the odds” that know me by souls. People are, as lovely and caring as I have always hoped, but on the other hand they push me more towards the people I have known for long. They help me understand that there is no place for greedy, that leaving a place doesn’t mean I am capable of leaving the people and the culture. 

Becoming that “odd”, I know how to appreciate what should be appreciated. I know for the sack of life that blending in is important because without it, I live by myself. I did. Everyday I do my best to aquire skills that I believe will get me towards where I want to be, but other days I will let myself be lazy and read a book and stay far from the center of the world. 

I talked to one of the odds today. She, I believe, is no longer the “she” that I have always loved – as a friend. The odd asked me to hang out, and it made my day. 

After all, she loves me the way I am, but I never learn to love her as I used to. What she is doing offends me as a friend, but I never speak up. 

But for I am an odd, 

I know what she feels. 

We, after all, need a friend who understand, not a teacher. 

Published by Thi Le


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