They always say there are two kind of people: those who are good, do good deeds, are nice, who are kind to everyone and those who do bad things to people, who plot bad things and can only hurt others, but I just see myself standing here, wondering what I am: I'm not good and I'm not bad. The only things I can do is stand here and look at all the people I see walking past my window and keep thinking: What am I.
Then finally after all those years he tells me what I am. Somebody walked past me one day and said: "You're just a wanderer destined to be nothing, watch and judge others." With a little smile he encouraged me to ask: "But why?"
He smiled back. "Because you are born different, you're an outcast, but that isn't something bad. No it's actually very good, because you dare to be different and don't do things others ask you to do."
I didn’t dare to ask all the other questions that were spooking trough my head, but it was like a dream or one of those fairy tales my mother always used to tell me because it seemed like he could read my mind or see the questions trough my eyes. Because he just smiled, grabbed my hand and took me to a quiet place, a place that everyone could dream of being there, but we were the only one who could be at that special place, because we were both different.


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