I knew that I was supposed to respond with some kind of mannered phrase that ended with “hail Satan,” but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. It seemed too empty and ritualistic, like wearing a uniform in a Christian school.
The country was a dreamland; and perhaps it even reminded my wife’s grandfather of the night he woke up drunk in his friend’s house, beside his friend’s wife, everything similar but new, different, better. The United States of America was like an eternity of those first disorientating seconds of not knowing and not wanting to.
‘How old were you when you realized you were… different?’
Logan opened his mouth, then smiled slyly, ‘What sort of different? Gay different, magic different, or just plain fucked-in-the-head-crazy different?’
Collin bit back a smile at Logan’s delivery, ‘Magic different.’
‘Ah,’ Logan said, ‘Pity, the other stories are a lot more fun.’
He got why Eleanor tried so hard to look different. Sort of. It was because she was different – because she wasn’t afraid to be.
You’re not like other girls, you know that, right?’ Ed asks.
‘I’ve been aware of the problem,’ I tell him.
And the geography of the thing–the geography of them–was completely and hopelessly wrong.
We are all daughters of God in various stages of construction.
There is nothing wrong being different. Being peculiar actually makes you stand out from others.
But I’ve learned now that your hard work and dedication will pay off, if you dare to be different. Because why would I want to be anything other than myself?
Don’t dare to be different, dare to be yourself – if that doesn’t make you different then something is wrong.