Hee. I like it.
A child in a store, as I walk by, will grab at his mother's pant leg and then whisper to her that I walk funny. Sometimes I clarify the situation, and sometimes I don't. But, here, I'll tell you that I was born different. I walk funny. Not just the post-fucked walking funny, either. I have an uneven gait that the corrective surgeries didn't fix. So, because of that, I adjusted to the fact that not everyone was gonna be keen on what I had to offer. Except maybe fetish-ists. My odd walk, incidentally, is not severe. I'm just saying it first here so that, well, we're all on the same footing. Because of the disability, I've seen little use in attending a gym. Sure, it would help my health, and that's the upbeat, admirable motivation I suppose I should have - yet I don't think most people go to the gym for upbeat, admirable reasons. Because of the disability, as well, I built up my personality. I'm funny. I'm smart. I'm a chatter. I can talk art, movies and music. I like to argue. I'm good to have on a trivia team. I write essays about my big, funny upbringing and my big, funny outlook. My essays are good. No lie. I try not to be sunny. I try to be open and honest. I don't trust happy people because I think they're either up to something or drinking the Jim Jones Kool-Aid. I used to wonder if I was dating weirdos just so that I'd have good anecdotes to share at parties. My friends tell me that I can do better at my jobs, in my relationships and in how I manage my life than I do, but many successful people I know still buy self-help books, which leads me to think that maybe we all are seeking some idealized version of how we want life to be and that maybe we aren't supposed to stop. I try too hard to get people to like me, even assholes that I shouldn't care about who I know deep down aren't worth my time. Haven't we all? I practice my Oscar speech, just in case. I was once asked how I can be arrogant yet have self-esteem issues. I don't fit in. I stand out.
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