The Nail That Sticks Out

"出る杭は打たれる" the nail that sticks out gets hammered in. I always took it a little bit too much at heart when I heard my home room teacher recite it like the great philosopher she was. I wonder? Is it a warning or a piece of advice? Is it true that the inevitability of individualism is to be silenced? Ridiculous. What an outrageous proverb or rather as the learned would love to put it "I'd beg to differ".

Conformity, that's what stands out in that grade A sentence. To reduce oneself and follow what is societally accepted. Normalcy.

Being born into a society driven world. One where you are a sheep till proven otherwise. The color doesn't matter honestly, whether white or black you obviously surrender to something. The illusion of the black sheep, the dream that we are more important than we may seem. It is true that an individual can manipulate the herd, but that is a shepherd, not a black sheep. The black sheep is chastised not adored, ignored and left to rot for you are different. Picked on for being something unfamiliar, something irregular. The pain of being looked down upon brought about a beautiful delusion that one day it shall be looked up to, loved, adored and respected by all. Sadly, you were just a victim of circumstance, nothing short of bad luck. For where white sheep exist so do black. In this broad landscape we call Earth there's not a singular experience you can call your own - you just so happened to be among the people fortunate or unfortunate enough to go through it. That is normalcy for the black sheep. A desire, a dream to one day look down on others as they were looked down on. A fool's errand really, for what will happen when you meet people like you. People who are hurt and need compassion, will you be cold or will you be different. Will you be the white sheep to someone else or will you give them what you wish you had.

'To be normal'- that was once my desire. I also once desired to be a cloud, ooh how magnificent it must be to have no worries and be led by the calm breeze. Ooohh I'm jealous, but what is normal? I'd ask myself as I observed my neighbor's kids play so cheerfully cooped up in my bedroom isolated from the rest of the world."Why am I so different?" Lazily as I am I desire to socialize- are we not social animals? It's perfectly in line to desire such a thing, no?

Time and time again I mistook what normalcy stood for. It angered me that it wasn't written into my biological code as an infant rather I was taught. I grew observant to quench my curious soul of what it missed out on. Read endless books on it, what social cues were. 'How not to be weird' I'd summarize it to myself but now I miss who I was, I miss what I forgot and loathe the box I've contained myself in. It's bright, full of people, it's cramped. Too cramped, with opinions, loyalty tests and a selfish righteous sense of justice. It made me miss my corner, the days I would squander my mind, fill it with things I and only I gave a shit about. There's nothing blissful about being normal, being seen as normal. It's an insult to who you are as a person.

Normal was never a being or a characteristic rather it's a means of life. Yeah there are normal lives, normal people, a white painted wall that's just okay not too shabby, liked by everyone disliked by no one for there is nothing to dislike. Bland at best honestly. Normal can only be defined by the one who lives it. Normal to your neighbor could be a drama filled life while normal to your grandpa could be peace, serenity, a little chaos and a dash of romance

So- what is normal for you?

Meeting young me would be of great service, I would do what I do best, observe and conceptualize my findings. That is my normal. I wouldn't advise nor interfere, the life I've had has been full of meaning. One that has given me purpose and it's something I wouldn't change for the world. As despairing as it may be.

My well esteemed reader, as a thank you I advocate you not to miss out on what normal could be for you. Ooh how much I despise the ignorant, how much I wish I wasn't observant, maybe then I would have reveled in isolation, bloomed in the darkest corners of sorrow instead of desiring what wasn't mine to begin with.