You were a little eccentric in the way you expressed yourself. Growing up, you were always told you were weird so you grew up with thick skin. It didn’t hurt much then because everyone said things they didn’t really mean as kids, you had to take that stuff with a grain of salt. In adulthood, however, it hurt much worse coming from people you respected and worked with.

One night, after overhearing who you consider your work wife telling somebody that she thinks you’re weird and is only friends with you because she felt bad, you come home sulking with a tear stained face. Emily, your girlfriend, notices of course and immediately comes up to you and envelopes you in a deep hug.

“Am I weird?” you asked, your voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” she replied, pulling back to look me in the eye. “But so what? Everyone’s weird in their own way.”