As individuals, there are sights and sounds and smells that trigger us. The sight of a man walking by in a leather jacket and blue L.A. hat once sent me into a two day melt down. I know the exact smell that reminds me of every single boy I've ever been with. And there is a specific time on the clock that I look at on accident almost every single day that sends a chill down my spine.
All of the above are old fixations that will probably never leave me.
But I found a new one. It is a word that, only beginning this year, that others have used to describe me.
However it is said, it sticks with me for days on end, echoing to the point where even the word itself is... strange.
Even the definition of the word outright says whether this trait is inherently good or bad.
This word has been thrown at me half-endearingly, out of frustration and then, this week, out of anger. To me, for some reason this word feels like an old-fashioned way of saying "fucking weird" and each time it has been used on me I have felt an intense emotional response that I can't even begin to explain. It makes me want to defend myself immediately.
But then it makes me proud in a twisted way.
Cause really, when I think about it, that's the life I want. Anything worth living for should be unusual and challenging and new. It's only an insult when you realize that everyone is raised and wired to strive for convention. And with the residue of Valentine's Day wearing off, I realize I want one thing more than anything.
I want my next love to be a strange one.
Listen to the playlist here.