What makes someone an outsider? Is it something you become, or something you're born as? Do you come out of your mothers womb with a burning desire to kick the world in the teeth, hoping that it'll straighten the bastard out a bit?
Or is it just someone who feels they don't fit in?
Maybe it's both. Maybe you become an outcast at first, struggling to rejoin humanity, to please your peers. But when they've rejected you one time too many, when you've had enough of their excuses and their demands for becoming accepted, then you either give up on humanity and become a hermit. Or you decide that your the one that's right and the world is wrong. You tell everyone and everything to go to hell and back to get some perspective while you stay at home rearranging the furniture, turning the pool into a fireplace and knocking a wall out from the world.
There's also the off chance that you're actually crazy, but just because your crazy doesn't mean your wrong either.
I've always thought of myself as a bit of an outsider. Going back and forth between my parents who lived separately, living mostly with my mom who had a tendency to hoard things she didn't need, which seemed like a way of annoying me in the many moves we went trough. We, the family unit consisting of me, my younger brother, my mother and any pets we had at the time, slowly made our way south. Maybe mom was hoping the sun would provide us with some extra energy whenever there was a gap in her incomes?
Luckily we rarely had to starve. We did steal corn from a field once or twice though. That right there but a dent in my childish belief that stealing is always wrong.
The contrast between living with my poor mom, who's been chronically sick for quite a while now, and my dad, who in those days was motivated mainly by riches, or at least obtaining a upper middle class existence, made it pretty clear that things were different from place to place. So in a way I learned that you can't always assume that people are the same as you. How could I when my own existence went back and forth from the edge of starvation to nice big pieces of meat, potatoes and brown sauce? When pizza seems like luxury you know things are bad.
Sadly I didn't analyze my situation in this manner at that time. You noticed the difference of course, the contrast was pretty big, but it usually resulted in me feeling bad for myself. Luckily you grew up from being a selfish little bastard and starts thinking about others. Or at least I hope most of us do. That not everyone does can be clearly seen all over the place after all.
Enough about me for now though.
Learning from the past is good, as long as you don't get stuck in it.
