Oddity

 Oddity

Sometimes I wonder if there is something genuinely wrong with me.

See, I don’t exactly consider myself all that ‘normal’.

And no, that is not a good thing.

I’m not sure how well I can describe it, but I’ll try to anyway.

Lately I’ve been having moments in which I struggle with all sorts of things– things that would even be as easy as breathing.

For instance, I can be rather distractible.

Studying in an area where it’s loud, you can’t even hear your own thoughts? An absolute nightmare. Even more so when the music I purposely blast into my ears to retain my train of thought is overpowered by the surrounding noise.

But I can’t make the music too catchy; because otherwise, I’d end up being inspired to do something completely unrelated to what I’m supposed to be doing, forgetting my initial task entirely.

It’s no wonder it takes me forever to finish anything.

And another thing: my brain will refuse to focus on anything that isn’t particularly ‘interesting’ to me.

Socializing is also a common burden of mine.

It’s not like I hate people, far from it. I actually quite enjoy being in the presence of people I care for.

But just the idea of having to use up energy and think of things to say to other people is…draining to me.

Even when I actually want to talk to them.

It’s pretty hard to come up with things to say on the fly, y’know. How others even manage to hold up a conversation before running out of things to say is…beyond me.

And then I just fall silent again, tucked away in a corner where I would usually be. A ghost among the crowd.

With all this, it makes me ask myself,

“Just what exactly is wrong with me?”

Even when I’ve already been asked this exact question many times– both by myself, and others– in the end, I can’t come up with an answer.

I try again and again, only to fall back down, harder than the last.

The way I see it, I’m like an otherworldly being trapped in the body of a young girl, oblivious and unaware to the functions of the human world.

Namely, an oddity.

At times, that very thought grows more and more true with each passing day.

I truly can’t fathom the fact that this is the body that has been given to me.

A messy creation, stitched together with tape and glue. Less stable than what a child would make in arts and crafts.

How much more can I live such a life, where I make things so much harder for myself?

If I can manage to survive for up to ten, twenty more years on this planet, what then if I were to just make it all a miserable experience?

My life is as chaotic as my mind, and I don’t know what’s causing it.

One failed social interaction here, one failed attempt at a task there. More negativity to pump into my already-battered ego.

If only I could reach into my brain and simply pluck out whatever it is that’s making me act this way.

It would be so easy.

And maybe then, I’d finally get to live life without having to hate myself.

- Casandra Jeneve Guevarra