The Outcast

    It has recently come to my attention that around the office I am known as being of lesser intelligence in comparison to my coworkers. I had been very aware of a select few who disliked me for reasons that remain unknown, yet completely unaware that I came across to the majority in this way. It baffles me that a group of what I assumed to be professional, intelligent adults would find it appropriate to openly judge another human being without actually getting to know them first. This type of behavior is often not tolerated yet expected in children as I experienced quite regularly throughout my school aged years. I never anticipated that I would ever have to relive such immature and hateful behavior again, especially from people who I believed to be trustworthy. I am now being forced to re-evaluate workplace relationships that I had believed existed peacefully and alter the way in which I present myself in order to counter the stereotype of which they have become accustomed. I am in no way ignorant, nor should I have to endure the blatant disrespect of those who I work with daily only because these same people are so insecure about themselves that they feel the need to bring down those around them.  

    Growing up, I was the shy, quiet child often mistaken for someone with much higher intelligence mainly because my face was always buried within the pages a book. They assumed that I was studying, instead I was feverishly writing poetry mostly about the injustices that I endured from those same people every day. I simply didn’t fit in, and I didn’t know how. It wasn’t until I grew older that I realized the profound effects of laughter and an intentional sense of humor. I silently studied sitcoms as I watched them, paying special attention to comedic timing and deliverance. I began to practice this in real-time and was surprised when those around me took notice. For once in my life, I had control of social situations making those around me laugh with corny one-liners and silly impressions. I was becoming the class clown and people enjoyed that. They stopped making fun of me and actually wanted me around. I made friends and seemed to fit in nicely wherever I showed up. This was working for me and though it took some time to perfect, I had become what I never believed was possible: Popular, in a sense.  

    Fast-forward to present day where I am once again feeling the effects of being the outcast in a world that despises the awkward and unique. I am back at square one forced to prove my worth to those who have secretly looked down upon me, mistaking my sense of humor and youthful personality for intellectual weakness. Social interaction has always been a struggle for me, and I now feel the need to retrain myself to fit into societal norms all over again which took many frustrating years and experiences to do. To add to the frustration are the ordinary stresses of everyday life and the hurt that accompanies the harsh reality that who I actually am is not typically what others see. I often wish that I could navigate society and the environment around me without so much planning, but this has never been my reality. I am constantly evaluating my own perception of things, other’s reactions to the mundane, and overthinking every detail of every interaction. Perhaps further evaluation is necessary to determine why I struggle with such simple interactions where others do not as this is currently being highly considered in light of recent events, while the question in my mind still remains: Am I really that different from everyone else?