Because I am Weird

I know that I am weird. I spent a whole life time trying to fit in but now I realize that this is what has truly been making feel superficial and just a little bit insane. My brain begins to act all photographic when it comes to others who are beginning to act depraved. I remember the exact words from a school mate who had witnessed my dog getting hit by a school bus. Me and my sister weren’t there. We were off doing one of our many activities but the bastard in the back couldn’t wait to tell us the next day about our beloved pup getting squished all over the road. I remember his smile and laughing cat calls as he did everything to bring us down that day. His face burned inside my memories like my 22 stitch incision scar burned across my belly. Where one scar is the reminder of another being coming to life the one that I remember is about another life getting taken away.

I don’t think or behave like most do. It’s not engrained in my DNA to behave that way. Where some see having pets as a major inconvenience I couldn’t imagine an existence where I would be living in any other such way. As a young girl our feral cats and kittens were something to be adored. The promise of every new life coming to life in our wood pile with our legs and arms determining who was winning if we were perhaps keeping score. I used to play in the mud and hide in the trees and when summer came a calling we were all brought to our knees. Well kind of. There was something about catching those frogs in our own backyard. I just wanted to see if they could be nice before we let them loose once again into the world. Yes I remember catching garter snakes. Ok truth be told it wasn’t me but my bestie. She wasn’t scared of anything that moved, included boys, she was one of the only friends I had in this world. I remember how that snake moved as she let him lose on my porch. It never crossed my mind how scared he was now that his belly was removed from the fresh grass.

What drives me the most is that humans are regarded as being the be all end all to life. Say what? I can’t live like that. I get shamed in my own house for not being able to eat meet that I couldn’t imagine the hate that is being fed to the outside world. Me being a vegetarian is an inconvenience to those around me, or so they say. My decision to not eat the murdered meat that we find on our store shelves is more than hereditary it has penetrated my brain. How can you say you love an animal than gorge your belly on their bones. I am horrified at the amount of chickens that paid with their lives just so I can garnish their wings with hot sauce and blue cheese. What I have come to appreciate in this time that I have found myself in that life is all around me in abundance and they are all more than thankful that I came. I love my animals so much and I know that they love me. They tell me in their own ways that they care and they would never have me sitting all alone. Even my hermit crabs that some regard as being below a living species. Remember that pet store clerk who dropped my crab from waist high citing he lives in a shell so who cares. We cared. We watched him die over 3 days from the injuries that she determined were superficial. This was the same pet store that sold us a bird in our bird seed with little to no care for the animals in their care or the outside world. We have co-existed with other species since the very early dawns of time. Now I feel like I need to read Charles Darwin’s Theory of Evolution just to see the changes that have happened over all these years. Why am I like this? Why am I so weird?

I wish I could go about my superficial day without a care in the world. How can I forget about all that has happened and is still happening like we can’t take a page out from long ago. What happened to those that used to live here before the mad man came and took them away? Was there really a time when we honoured life over profit or will the all mighty greenbacks be forever calling our name? What makes me weird is I want to honour all life not just mine. I want to lift those to the highest existence that I can possibly because I know and remember what it feels like to be made of every single which way. I am not stupid, dumb or retarded; all the names the husband likes to call me, but if I continue to allow his words to affect me what ever will happen to lil ol me?

I guess I shouldn’t focus too much on all the names that he calls me but it is getting very hard not to. I know I am worth more than his constant bursts of anger and all the venomous filth he likes to throw onto me. I know I am weird by most standards and I know for sure I am not everybody’s cup of tea but aren’t we all worthy of a little human compassion? Even the weird ones like me?

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