The vast majority of people don’t care, the little that cares already know how weird you are.
Embrace your weirdness, worry a bit less and have more fun.
It won’t happen overnight, but everytime you catch feeling bad because your think you are weird, just own it. It already happened at that moment, nothing you can do about it right now.
You will feel a lot less insecure as time goes on, you might not even care at one point.
“Honey, you know you shouldn’t ta~” she stops as her eyes find the source of her daughter’s confusion.
“Mommy?” the girl asks, uncertainty in her tone.
“D-d-don’t make eye contact, honey. I’m uh sure he has his…” she stops, mouth agape for a moment before recovering, “…and now he’s screaming at that garbage bin. We’re gonna go! Come on, honey!”
in the distance
“I FEEL SO FREE FROM THE SHACKLES AND CONFINES OF THIS ONCE JAIL OF CULTURAL IGNORANCE! THIS BIN! THIS GARBAGE BIN REPRESENTS THE OLD WAYS. THE TRASH WAYS. I HAVE ACCEPTED MY WEIRDNESS. MY ECCENTRICITIES ARE OPEN TO ALL!”
Phegan was never heard from again after this moment.
Life became so much easier when I fully embraced how weird I am, and stopped caring if people thought I was weird.
This comment, is a role model.
I think people who embrace their own little version of weird are less judgmental and generally happier and more confident.
It becomes an endearing trait, rather than a sore spot.
I just had a little cry because I hate how weird I am. I hope to one day transcend and join you.
Remember that peoples opinions are their own prison. Life is long. Building is much harder than destroying. Small steps.
The vast majority of people don’t care, the little that cares already know how weird you are.
Embrace your weirdness, worry a bit less and have more fun.
It won’t happen overnight, but everytime you catch feeling bad because your think you are weird, just own it. It already happened at that moment, nothing you can do about it right now.
You will feel a lot less insecure as time goes on, you might not even care at one point.
little girl tugs on her mother’s sleeve
“Mom…why is that person wearing, um…that??”
Mom, confused, looks around
“Honey, you know you shouldn’t ta~” she stops as her eyes find the source of her daughter’s confusion.
“Mommy?” the girl asks, uncertainty in her tone.
“D-d-don’t make eye contact, honey. I’m uh sure he has his…” she stops, mouth agape for a moment before recovering, “…and now he’s screaming at that garbage bin. We’re gonna go! Come on, honey!”
in the distance
“I FEEL SO FREE FROM THE SHACKLES AND CONFINES OF THIS ONCE JAIL OF CULTURAL IGNORANCE! THIS BIN! THIS GARBAGE BIN REPRESENTS THE OLD WAYS. THE TRASH WAYS. I HAVE ACCEPTED MY WEIRDNESS. MY ECCENTRICITIES ARE OPEN TO ALL!”
Phegan was never heard from again after this moment.