The Misfits

I’ve never really fit into any group that well. Maybe that’s part unhealed trauma, part innate oddness, and part superpower.

My seat has always been with the misfits. That’s where I belong. With the loners and the rebels, the broken and awkward and divergent ones. With the people who couldn’t fit the box if they tried.

That’s where I find inspiration, in the eyes of silent warriors who never gave up. That’s where I find beauty, in the faces of people who are brave enough to just be who they are. That’s where I find purpose, in the hearts of those looking for a safe place to turn. That’s where I feel the safest, among those who are different like me.

That’s where I am home, among those who came together incidentally but find a way to fit together perfectly.

The people who disappear into the back of the room and the ones who stick out like a sore thumb. The ones whose minds are like Alice’s wonderland, and whose hearts are like vast gardens inside a Rubik’s Cube.

The people who are too complicated, or too simple, too real, or too honest for the world to understand, those are the ones that I end up calling friends.

I’ll never sit at the cool kids’ table, and I don’t want to. Sitting under a tree with the outcasts and odd ones is right where I belong.

~ Cristen Writes