I find myself wanting to get to know more about the old woman in the corner shop. She looks strange with her blue hair and sharp little teeth, but I am used to strange.

Since I moved here the ordinariness of most people has been the biggest struggle. Who could understand me, who could I possibly talk to about what I’ve been through without them calling the police, or the newspapers or completely avoiding me.

This life is so misunderstood.  OK I can teleport and a few other things but I still want to talk to people about normal everyday shit. Why Mondays are so dull, what the weather’s like, how to talk to that woman I keep seeing in the park without making a fool of myself. There’s no one I can do that with at the moment and it really sucks.

I need to talk to people who might understand and be able to empathise. The idea I’ve been toying with for a few years now, but have never stayed in one place long enough to do anything about, is a support group or a self help group for people like me. People with powers, or weird and unusual people, the outcasts – maybe that’s too broad though, I don’t know.

The point is they don’t have to be exactly like me, they don’t have to be teleporters; it could be people who have something about them, something they can do that others wouldn’t understand or if they knew about would just think about how amazing or weird or cool it was.

–          Teleporting, wow that must be amazing? –

It is pretty amazing but I couldn’t share it with anyone and it means I’ve  lived a very lonely life, and that was far from cool. I wanted to talk to people who had similar experiences, who knew what it was like to be strange.

I don’t know why but that old woman seemed like she’d be able to help – just a feeling.

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Inspired by

http://www.writerlylife.com/2010/07/do-some-writing-outside/

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