Just to be very clear: I got no problem with being different from what society expects, wants, demands or hints at.
SOCIETY has a problem with me. And that's strictly their problem, I shouldn't have to worry about it at all, and I wouldn't, except they have the power to MAKE it my problem. And they do.
They're trying their hardest to make me, that is my true self, unheard, unseen, unwritten and if that fails, unbreathing. Even then they wouldn't stop, they'd try to erase my memory and legacy as well, like dust in the wind.
And at the same time, they're trying to move heaven and earth to make me be legible, seen, understood, filed away, tracked, maybe dissected and studied. Fixed forever, my data stored in their filing cabinets, lists and servers, never to be forgotten or erased.
But whatever such inquisition would glean about me and whatever they record, would not, is not, has never been and could never be the real me. And it is not something that can live.
That's how I end up agonising over what society thinks of me or wants from me: Because all avenues they leave me end in death. This is NOT a metaphor!
This is how my existence is a constant revolutionary struggle for survival, for air to breathe. This revolution is not a metaphor either.
The temptation to give in, give up, die internally and then externally, fast or slowly, it's always there. It's not a temptation really, just constant pressure (torture if you look too closely) and the empty, lying promise of relief.
If only I stopped struggling, they say, it would stop hurting. If I didn't try to dance, I wouldn't feel any chains, they swear.
I am biting the hand that feeds me these lies, that beats me, confines me and excludes me. My teeth are the sharpest of all weapons: Wild, unfettered truth!
I am who I am and I am good the way I am.