Hello to you ! How are you this Sunday morning ? I am hoping for more rain so my car will be clean again ! We got just enough of a spittle to turn my car into a mud ball .
My thoughts are inspired by my drawing today….being an odd ball. Not being like everybody else. Most of my life I have been the one that doesn’t fit in. It’s not that I didn’t look the fitting in part it’s what was going on inside of me. I was a goth girl before it was a thing. I used to visit cemeteries and talk to animals all the time. I can remember looking in the mirror and wondering who was behind my eyes .
In my drawing I am the one standing alone looking at all those who are in line. I never quite fit in to the group. It’s usually because I don’t want to have to compromise my beliefs and or thoughts so that I will fit in.
For as long as I can remember it’s been this way for me. I was an outsider in school and in the military . The only time I really belonged is when I did sports. I was a runner and played volleyball . There is a camaraderie to sports that you don’t find in other group settings . I might have to consider sports again once Covid settles down again.
Nowadays my being an oddball has to do with having so many mental health labels. I just have to keep reminding myself that I am not those labels – they don’t define who I am as a person . The labels are for the doctors ! I sometimes let my labels rule my life and I miss out on things as a result .
I have always been a little odd, my ways a mystery to most everyone but God. My eyes a mirror within a hall of windows, my spirit trapped between life and the gallows. Walking between worlds tangible and the unseen, a balancing act of sweet and mean . I am indeed odd but that is between me and God ……
To be 
Hi, I was a goth girl too. I used to go for a walk in the cemeteries because there was the scent of cypresses, the silence and even the smell of flowers. I felt at peace among the dead. Instead my war was with people, with my mother first of all. She wanted many things from me, she wanted me to fulfill her wishes and not mine. She cried often and I had to solve her problems with my father but I was just a little girl and I needed silence. Now I no longer go to any cemetery, not even the cemetery where my father is buried. I don’t like being in cemeteries anymore.
Thank you for writing to me and sharing your experiences as a fellow goth and what made you go to the cemetery . I don’t go to them anymore either!