You know that question, “Tell us about a time when you felt out of place.”
Well, that’s easy. Always. I feel out of place most of the time, and on bad days, I’m convinced I don’t even belong on this timeline at all. Honestly, I think I missed my stop and got off at the wrong century.
I’ll give you an example: People get excited about the newest phone, AI filters, or some app that makes your face look like a cat. Meanwhile, I’m staring at clouds, wondering what shape they’ll make next, and thinking I’d rather send a carrier pigeon than another WhatsApp message. I can’t tell if the world is racing ahead without me, or if I’m deliberately dragging my feet like a stubborn mule. Probably both.
There have been actual moments, too, walking into a fancy event, everyone glittering in heels and sleek hair, while I show up looking like I got lost in a forest on the way there (which, to be fair, is often true). Everyone seems to know the script except me. I’m always improvising, and usually badly.
But here’s the thing: being out of place isn’t all bad. It means I’m not trapped in the crowd’s echo. I see things differently, question things, laugh at the wrong times (or maybe the right times, who decides that anyway?). If I’m not meant for this timeline, then possibly I’m the proof that there are other ones. Sometimes I think I’m a reminder that not all souls are meant to sit neatly in society’s box.
So yes, I often feel out of place. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the world needs a few misfits wandering around, poking holes in the timeline, making people wonder if they’re really in the right place themselves.
And if not, well, I’ll just keep waiting for the wormhole back to my real century. Hopefully, they have better tea there.
Mae 🧡
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