I’m convinced in our own little ways we are all fucked up.
The reason I am bring this up is because I am reading a novel and I noted that everyone seems to be flawed in some way. It got me thinking. I am not perfect either, and then I got to thinking that none of us are perfect. We all carry baggage of some sort, or other. We are all flawed in some way.
As my readers know, I have a mild case of Cerebral Palsy (CP). It made me stood out as a kid which one really doesn’t wish to do when one is a kid – We just want to fit in. It is even more so when we become teenagers. It isn’t until we become sure of who we are. The age at which this occurs varies here, but when one is older that we like being different, or at the very least accept that we are all different people.
I am damaged goods. I carry the scars left over from childhood teasing about how I walk differently, or how I do things differently. I never mentioned it before, but I feel this way sometimes when other look and point, or falter when they don’t know what to say when they meet me. Oh, these people are few and far between, but once in a blue while, I get triggered as the little boy who was teased.
I have it good. I know that there are others far worst then me. I know I was born different, but my different cannot be hidden. It is there for everyone to see. There are a lot of other people whose disability is easily hidden, but their weaknesses are not any less than mine. We hall have issues. It’s just we don’t always show are vulnerabilities. Deep down we’re still afraid that other will judge us, or not accept us for who we are which is fine; it’s all good. It’s just… It’s just, sometimes I think that if we just accept that we are all afraid, or that deep down, we are all the same. We are human; we are people. People who are just traveling the same journey we call, “Life,” as best we know how. We all wish to be accepted.
Is this too much to ask?
—Robert Confiant 10 November 2019