I'm a 'misfit'.
I was ten, and it was my birthday. My classmates wanted to sing on my birthday. I refused. Too much excitement, not my cup of tea. Anyway, they still went on to sing. After they finished clapping, I started crying instead of laughing(or smiling, whatever you name it).
My class teacher asked me, "Why you crying?".
I said, "I don't have gifts for them. How do I thank them for singing to me on my birthday? "
I was too young and naive to see my birthday as my special day, and not theirs.
I'm not capable of Abnegation.
I'm misfit. Misfits are grey.
I do not want people to talk to me with such high energy at all. Too much excitement. Not my cup of tea. I don't want to put up a happy smiling face before answering, "I'm great" to everyone's "How are you?"
I will avoid conversations throughout the day and keep myself busy, but at 3 AM, when the lights are turned off and I have nothing to do, I strike conversations with friends who needed me in the morning. While they entrust me with their secrets, I make notes to tell a story. After crying on the phone, we share a silence, only I’m writing down the things they have said.
I'm not someone of refreshing Candor. I'm an eccentric. Eccentrics are grey.
I do not know what's the feeling of being loved.
I do not know what's the feeling of being someone's reason to live, to still go on in life and to continue breathing with hopes that a person also wants to breathe the same air as you do.
I do not know how it feels to be someone's reason of smiling, of laughing or even of crying in the middle of the night.
I do not know how it feels to be loved with someone's whole heart and soul, but I do know how it feels to be not loved back at all.
I'm not capable ot Amity.
I'm unlovable. I'm grey.
I hurt people, and I make mistakes. I don't apologize. I betray, lie, manipulate and cheat. I cover up my faults by my bitterness hidden under the savoury.
I don't understand what others seem to understand easily. I'm flawed. I'm betrayed by love. I'm painted as the villain. I'm a story, that no one writes. I write myself, every single day, in bits and bytes - saved, preserved and backed up on the cloud.
I'm not Erudite.
I'm ignorant. I'm grey.
"In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer."
And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.
I am a mad (wo)man.
I know when I see trouble. The rest would steer away but I would walk right into the storm, waving hands and saying, “I’ve to have this experience, too” to everyone who tries to convince me to stay put or find a solution to the problem. They want an easy way out. I don’t blame them – the world has been playing safe for far too long.
And, for this one time, I'm not grey. I was deep blue, but they painted me golden. I'm black now. I'm dauntless, and I'm breathing.