Mom and I

I’ve always been the person you see now. A little twisted, a little odd. Quite a bit different. My parents deplored “different”. They’d wait to see approval of me from the outside world. “Your daughter is very talented.” “Your daughter is beautiful.” Then, once they had outside approval, they would relay it to me. “We’re proud of you. You’re beautiful and talented.” Because someone who’s approval they sought said so. But they never encouraged who I am or who I was. “You can’t make a living acting or writing”. Be someone you aren’t. That’s the only way someone like you can survive in this world. Change yourself and muddle through this life. I’ve been trying to change for years. I’ve been quite successful at changing. But then, there came a time when I could no longer love myself because I’d changed everything about myself to try and fit in. Call me crazy. Call me whatever makes you feel better about the world, but I disagree with most of the things you’ve accepted as truth. I’m not crazy. I may, in fact, be the sanest person you’ll ever come across. I see life as it is. Not as I’ve been told to see it. This is rare. And while I long for their approval, my mother and father and my analytical mind have caused me to be this way. And I’m grateful. I don’t care to fit in. But I do love to live. And write. It’s ok to think I’m crazy. I’m not. I know that. I think maybe I’m just an artist. Just different than what you’ve come to believe is an artist. I do not enjoy that which comes easily to me. I enjoy being in the mud. Sometimes I wish my make up were different. But for the majority of my life, I’ve been on my own. In the mud. And it’s a phenomenal place to be. I highly recommend it. 

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