Growing up with mental illness has always left me feeling off. Somehow not the same as the rest of the world. Often times less than others. Often times alone....
Because of that, I see the world in a way many others do not. Where people look for perfection in beauty, I find the imperfections beautiful. I always pick the runt of the litter, the flower with the missing petals, the flawed diamond, the one eyed puppy, the fat cat, the road less traveled, the one winged bird.....I finally feel a sense of companionship with the less common, the less desirable, the unique. What others may see as broken I see as magnificent and worthy. Maybe because for so much of my life I have felt broken and less than worthy. I feel more comfortable with those that are less interested in having the best of things in life. Life in itself is the best thing, objects need not not apply and perfection is a lie force fed to us by magazines and television. In a society where broken is considered ugly and imperfections are considered outcast, we are a merry band of misfits. All of us who are not skinny enough, rich enough, fat enough, pretty enough, too smart, not smart enough, scarred, damaged, different, scared, imperfect, lonely, silent, too loud, broken, mentally ill, we are all the same. We outnumber the "normal" people and yet we accept that perfection is beautiful and everything else is ugly, unwanted, and undesirable. It's crap. It's a lie that no one could possibly measure up to. It's a time tested tattered and stained canvas facade that covers our walls, books, and lives with complete and utter crap.
There is nothing that says perfect is the only beauty in this world. Perfect is fake. Perfect is a fictitious. Perfect doesn't truly exist.. I'd much rather have someone by my side, real problems and all, than someone who only says what they think I want to hear. After all, the world is full of imperfect beautiful things. Everything in nature is imperfect. Trees with scratches and craggy surfaces and twisted roots are imperfectly beautiful. Snow that tumbles unevenly to earth and covers it like a blanket of silence is imperfect and beautiful. A child's stick figure drawings, chocolate chip cookies, a gorgeous sunset, your most loved book that has been worn down by late night readings, they way we as humans love, some of the most amazingly inspiring and beautiful things that we see and have in our life times are completely, ridiculously, imperfect. It is what makes them memorable. It is what makes them endearing. It is simply what makes them touch your heart.
So I have come to the conclusion that no matter how much flack or discrimination we get, no matter how much we may feel that we do not fit in, we are exactly the way we are supposed to be. Imperfect but beautiful. Different but amazing. Strong and colorful. Flawed but magnificent. One of a kind. One in a million. A gorgeous, creative, unique, imperfect, and yet perfectly flawed masterpiece. We all deserve respect. We all deserve to be loved. We all deserve to be picked in gym class. To be danced with at the school dance. To be picked, chosen, accepted. We all deserve to be treated as equal. We all deserve to know that we matter and that we are completely amazing exactly the way we are. Anyone else that can't see that is not worth our extra breath or our time. It's so totally their loss.
We are a merry band of misfits and we are magnificent.
Sincerely, a fellow misfit