The Rabbit Hole Has Wi-Fi

Me, The Black Sheep

Me, the black sheep.

I honestly never felt enough.

Whatever I did in my life, it was never enough.

I was never conventional.

I lived by my own rules, and whenever they didn’t match what others thought was right, I was shamed.

Maybe not in a way where someone threw it in my face that I was stupid.

But in a quieter way:

My way of learning was never understood.

Whenever I showed what I had created, it wasn’t good enough.

Whenever I didn’t want to pursue an opportunity that didn’t feel right for me, I was made to feel ashamed.

I mean, I don’t care about writing tales about a forest.

Why should I force myself to do it then?

Why can’t I wait for an opportunity that actually excites me?

And the worst thing was never being misunderstood.

That, I think, comes with life.

The worst thing was that I never felt people actually wanted to understand me.

At least try.

I made a quick decision that actually hurt no one, and I got attacked for making it.

I froze and couldn’t answer.

I KNEW why I did what I did.

I always knew.

I am not dumb.

Behind all the chaos, behind all the weirdness, there is an order that I understand. That I calculated.

Most of my decisions that seem impulsive are actually very well calculated and carefully planned.

So I could have answered the question if I had felt that the other person genuinely wanted to understand.

But it was always about making me make sense, not about understanding me.

So I learned that "why" actually meant, "Why not my way?" or "Why not what I wanted? Why not what I expected?"

This is how that strange contradiction was born: I either said nothing or tried to overexplain myself.

I had to learn the hard way that most people are not actually curious about my way of thinking or my decision-making.

They are annoyed, scared, or frustrated that I don’t make sense to them.

They don’t care why I create weird stuff.

They want to know why I’m not normal and why I can’t write simple love stories.

I honestly have this deep desire for someone to genuinely want to understand me.

To look at me with genuine curiosity instead of expectations.

I learned that there is no point in trying.

Because everybody sees themselves behind my actions, and that is the only perspective that works for them.

However many times I tried to explain that no, they were not right, they always seemed to know me better than I knew myself.

So...

Yeah, I don’t mind being the black sheep.

And honestly, in some way, I love it.

But it had a very sad side too.