Are you down with the sickness? I am.

Commentary

There is a fine line between “ill” and “gifted.”

Sometimes the two go hand-in-hand; sometimes one triggers the other.

The line in the sand that divides the insane from the genius is a boundary that has been known to shift as the tide of human intellect and experience rises and falls.

When it comes down to it, nothing is etched in stone.

There is no way for one human to categorize or define another human…

We are each too biased and jaded by our own perception to judge each other.

The lens through which you look at life is a veritable spider’s web of cracks and smears from time’s abuse.

Each tick of the clock has the potential to chip away at what you once believed; the beautiful purity of thought that you once wanted so badly to lose.

So, you ate the forbidden fruit.

You took the red pill.

You swallowed hard the sedative we call paradigm, and slowly the sweet whispers of compromise turned to demanding screams of conformity.

You find yourself losing the you-ness that at one time made you happy.

You find yourself tied down to a metal gurney, majestic wings bound by leather straps.

And there stands the one who you believed loved you and wanted the best for you, urging you to allow “the cure” to be injected into your pounding bloodstream.

With a needle poised at your exposed wrist, this is your moment of truth.

Social guidelines and expectations are good; it’s easy to see that.

Rules are not the problem.

They are people like me who are the problem.

When I recently watched X-Men 3: The Final Stand (again), it dawned on me why it is that I like these movies so much.

I am an X-Man. Well, X-Woman, to be more gender-correct.

There is something very unique about me that society is uncomfortable with.

They’d rather me blend in.

They try to convince me of how much happier I’d be if I were just like them.

Au contraire.

Thinking the way I do and being the way I am is all that I really have.

Do they honestly think their identity-sucking poison will fulfill me?

Maybe they do; it’s hard to say.

What I do know is that there are Professor X’s in this world.

There exist mentors who encourage young people like us to grow where we’re planted, explore the possibilities and dare to be as loud, colorful and unpopular as we can.

We’re all radically different, and I for one am okay with that.

The “gifted youngsters” in the X-Men movies came from families that thought them ill.

They had difficulty fitting in with other children because of their unique abilities.

Many even accepted the label that was placed upon them and looked at themselves as less just because they were different.

How unfortunate it is that you can see the same thing happen in schools every day.

The smart ones, the creative ones, the ones who think outside the box are generally the last to be picked for dodge ball, if you’ll recall.

Admittedly, I was among those who were chosen last.

I’d love to tell myself that it was because I was exceptionally smart, but I would be kidding myself.

I was a band geek from an artsy family.

Lump those in with an awkward disability and I had myself a recipe for alone time.

I vividly remember crying to my mom, being so angry and hurt, and her promising me that someday when I was in college things would change.

She painted a picture in my mind of a place where there were other people like me.

There were so many band geeks that they were cool.

People would accept me and all my eccentricities, and I would meet others far stranger than me.

Well, thus far in my college career, I have found my mother’s words to be true.

I won’t name any names, but there are certainly people on this campus that make me feel a little more normal.

Ahem… Griffon News editors…

Ahem.

My point is this: there is a place for everyone.

You might have a metal skeleton.

You might control the weather.

You might be a walking magnet.

You might even be a drama major.

Whatever you are, I need you.

You make my world more colorful, and don’t you dare let anyone try to cure you.

Let those wings break free.

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