You could call me a non-conformist, but you’d be wrong.
And I guess since I usually disagree with non-conformists, you could even go as far as to call me a hipster, ideologically speaking, but you’d be wrong.
I can’t help it. I’m just me. And I just so happen to disagree with almost everything, but I guess most of you would never know.
I probably think you’re stupid, too.
I think a lot of people are stupid. I’m not an elitist, I swear.
I honestly believe I don’t hold a higher opinion of myself.
But I do– honestly– believe that pretty much everyone is stupid.
I’ll volunteer myself for that list first.
Don’t take it for negativity. When I think people are stupid, it is because someone has to hold us to higher standards.
We should all hold ourselves to higher standards.
Say I’m wrong, but I don’t see most people holding themselves to higher standards.
And for that, we are stupid.
I hate stereotypes.
Correction, I hate how it seems like everything is a stereotype.
I am sure my wedding will be a joyful day, but the last thing I want are the stereotypical photographs of me and my bride.
I don’t want to sell the image that we are the happiest, most perfectly paired two people put on this planet.
I don’t want to sell the sappy, stale, stereotyped, sterile, smiling, supposedly special standard stained stigma that’s supposed to be the happiest day of our lives.
And I don’t want that sold to me.
I don’t want to be mistaken for saying I want to be and appear to be miserable.
But I don’t want to be fake.
I want to be happy, but I want to be stressed out.
And everything else I will be on such a day.
Let me show it.
I don’t want to be manufactured.
I don’t know what organic is, though.
If I recognize I can choose what to absorb, am I not manufacturing myself?
If I don’t, isn’t the world around me just manufacturing me?
I just want to be me.
I don’t want to be you.
I don’t want to be MTV.
I don’t want to be TLC.
I don’t want to be HGTV.
I don’t even want to be my parents.
I don’t want to be the shade of the same color segregated in our little section of the room.
I don’t want to walk into a place and not be accepted because I don’t dress a certain way, or give off the same vibe that says I don’t care what I look like, cause that’s what us people do.
Or to receive the same sentiment because my appearance doesn’t say that I don’t give off the same vibe that says I do care what I look like, because to be interested in these things, I should.
I don’t want to be a jellybean, and I certainly don’t want you guessing how many of me there are in the jar. This is not your contest.
I don’t want to be judged, I want to be received.
I don’t want to judge, I want to receive.
I don’t want to do things the same way everyone else does because that is how the game is played.
Yet, I don’t want to do things to the contrary because I’m making a point.
I just want to do things in the same way my mind has always figured things out; like a kid.
I want to be a kid.
I want to be me, and I want to have a voice.
But I don’t see what the point a voice is without an audience.
Yes, like the voice, the tree that falls in the forest does make a sound even if nobody is there to hear it
But it doesn’t make a notable impact on anything if nothing was around.