Maybe weird is the way back....

after months of silence, grief, and blank pages, i return with nothing polished - just thoughts on being weird, and why maybe that’s the point.

I’m going to start this piece by saying:

I haven’t written here in months. five to be exact. since my dad passed, the words just… stopped. the ideas too. i thought i’d come back sooner but every time i tried, i felt blank.

But today, on my way back home from my editing class, I felt the urge again. Not to write something polished or clever - just to write. To let my thoughts breathe. So I opened my notes app and started typing, just so I wouldn’t forget. And what came out was this:

Being weird

Yessssss… I’ve always wanted to be weird. weird enough to count as a nerd, but brilliant enough that the weirdness turns into something people admire. Not weird just for the sake of standing out, but the kind of weird that hides a spark of genius.

I imagine being that person who spends hours at home, surrounded by notes, books, messy scribbles, and half-finished ideas. Someone who doesn’t always show up in the noise of the world, but whose thoughts are busy building something extraordinary behind closed doors. Someone who does great things quietly, until the world can’t help but notice.

I want to be that person who thinks so far outside the box, people can’t even see the box anymore. i want people to ask, how did you even come up with that? not because i’m smarter, but because i dared to see the same thing differently.

But then I wonder: do people ever really do this alone? When I look at those who’ve built great things, I can’t help but ask myself whether they had secret support along the way. Was there a friend who encouraged them when they doubted themselves? A mentor who gave them that crucial piece of advice? A partner who believed in them even when the world didn’t? We love the story of the lone genius, but I think most “genius” is stitched together with invisible threads of community, influence, and support.

And yet, despite knowing that, I still feel drawn to the idea of solitude. I want to try being that one person in the corner of the room, headphones on, lost in thought, chasing ideas until they turn into something real. I want to experiment with what can happen if I give myself the space to think differently, even if it feels uncomfortable, even if it feels lonely.

Naive

Maybe it’s naïve. Maybe it’s impossible to truly build something groundbreaking without others shaping it too. But I keep coming back to this thought: what if being weird enough, persistent enough, and curious enough can push me into the kind of brilliance that only happens once in a while?

So here I am, trying. Sitting with my thoughts, stretching them, bending them, breaking them, and seeing what emerges. Because maybe being weird is the point. Maybe it’s not about fitting in or being normal, but about leaning into the strangeness until it turns into something worth noticing.