I will always feel like an alien trying to fit among humans, because I don’t know how to blend in. Not really.
I can move among groups. I can talk as though I belong. I can say the right things. I can even lead them to believe I’m one of them.
Inside, though, I will always feel like an alien among others. I will always feel as though I don’t quite fit. And I’ll always hate it that I care what they might think of me.
Earlier this week, I found a group of my school photos from my younger years. It turns out that I have almost every year’s photo from first through sixth grade. In the younger photos, I looked like a happy little boy. By the time I got to the sixth grade — the one you see here — I look older than my years and I look unhappy.
Maybe I simply know too much about what was really behind those young eyes, but I see unhappiness and alienation. I see someone who felt alone in the world.