Weird

Weird

Never knew a time when I was not

weird

this is different
I am tonight surprised to find I care
in a way I didn’t think I did about it

weird

they wrote in my high school yearbook
they said weird, you are weird
(and many added, stay that way)

I don’t recall a time
this was said unpleasantly
however small, there was always care there

now I care in a way I never thought I would
that my niece in a childhood game
said You’re weird and got upset
when I said Thank you

I treated it as a compliment, and always had

she said But you’re weird! as if
to say a repetition of it would
impel me to remember
it was not to be treated as a compliment,
an identity, a friend

there was always something in me
that knew the value of my uniqueness

different

I care in a different way now
than I ever thought I would
because my weird makes me unique
there’s something different that’s the same
as unique and that’s

outsider

I have often thought myself a loner — this is how I’m free

different

to be free — yet I am an outsider
and each time someone has told me
as caringly as you told me tonight

You’re weird

there is something

different

I never saw before
I see now with my
high
di-
lated
eyes
that each time I’ve been told
even by friends who love me
as you do
it leaves a little hurt each time
because the meaning of

weird

is unique, individual, different, free

outsider

and sometimes in my freedom
I am so lonely, and want so bad

to belong

[17 Oct 1983]

About this poem

From my bad old days.

Days are better now (overall). But I’m still weird.