1 Sheep, 2 Sheep, White Sheep, Black Sheep

**QUICK UPDATE**

I know it’s been a hot minute since I did a blog. I want to apologize; I have been struggling with a change in medication, and it’s taken a toll. I’m slowly getting better though.


You just know when you are different. There is a disconnect between yourself and who you are interacting with. 
Last night, I had a dream that I was trying to fit in with people so unlike me. I could feel their judgement. I tried to shape myself in their image, but it was no us.

Growing up, I questioned everything. Especially religion. To this day I question it. 

If I had to label myself, I would consider myself agnostic. 

If I had grown up differently, I might still be Christian, but when something is thrusted upon you, you tend to reject it. Christianity wasn’t a choice..

It was the only way to live.

This played a part of a complex puzzle. As a result of not having autonomy, I looked for an outlet; I rebeles in my interests, my clothing, my music, anyway I could.

The other part of this puzzle is my reserved nature. It’s so hard for me to develop deep relationships. I feel like I truly succeeded in one relationship, but that’s it. Partly because I put my empathy and trust into terrible, selfish people, and partly I don’t want people to see under that hard shell. 

I don’t want the soft inside to show.

This is why I’m a black sheep.

I don’t like getting close, I reject the inablity to make life choices, and I’m more interested in counter culture. 

I grew up in Kentucky, but I hate it. I hate country music, cowboy boots, hunting, camp, religion, backwards thinking, and lack of opportunity.

I am not wanted there anyway. I don’t fit in with what little family I interact with. It’s always been that way. I feel like me being born put a thorn in some people’s sides. Like I was an asshole for just being born. Or, they came to the conclusion that I’m a snob. They mistaken my shy, reserved nature as a me being a bitch.

Even in these odds, there’s irony.

Everytime I was mocked, not invited, made fun of, put down by family, taken for a bitch, told I need to pray to Jesus, told I was vain, aggorant, given a sideways glance, an eye roll….

Those assholes made me more convinced to not give up.

To not let them see me knocked down. To show I’m not what they tried to mold me into. To show they couldn’t break me. To show it’s my fucking life, I can so what I fucking want to do.

I have to rise above it, or let them step on me.

Being a black sheep sucks, but it sure as hell beats following the flock.
-E.

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