The illness flocked around us. We knew people had it but never thought so many had been lost to it. We felt lost in a sea of so many infected faces. They look at us like we are the odd ones, like we have are the sick ones. It’s funny how we look at them in the same way. They avoid us like we avoid them. A few of our own should belong with them but they flew away from the crowd. We are different. We stand so alone and yet feel so full of love.
Many of the infected try to grow the sickness by roping us in but most of them fail. They see the sickness as normal and the few people that have escaped it or never had it as weird and foreign. How strange we must look to them, with our bright attire and strange words. When we are walking sometimes they flood in and stare. In truth, we are weird. This illness that has so many behind it and it has gone right over our heads. We pay no mind to it and continue on, searching for a cure. We are loud when they are quiet. We find joy in so many ways while they are almost confined to their minds. Our worlds seem so large compared to theirs. They think of us as ignorant and slow when we think of ourselves as smart and imaginative. They see us as odd and not worth their time. We see ourselves as unique and amazing. Most of these infected faces will never understand us. They will live the rest of their lives thinking we are wrong and simple. A few will see how special we all are and how much we get from one another. We can hope that someday everyone will see how us and how we are and smile. We hope for this but know the day may never come. They think they know so much more but in truth how can they? They, who have spent their whole lives being shunned for creativity whilst we have been celebrated for it, might not ever see what is in front of them. A whole world that isn’t confined by walls or rules but open to everyone who can see it; at times I feel sorry for them. They will never know the feeling of truly being free. My people have been free for years and we never want to go back. Sometimes I feel as if I am missing something but then I realize what I was missing was always there, waiting for me to come and experience it. These people, who I have laughed with, cried with and ran with understand me so much better than people with the sickness I have known for years. These strange people who, like me have left this ‘illness’ behind and will always get me as I will get them. These strange, beautiful, weird people love me in a way I didn’t understand before. I do feel sorry for the people that won’t ever feel the joy we share together. These people who were strangers to me not to long ago are now closer than family and I can’t imagine my life without them.