There’s a rather obscure song written by REM back in the mid 1980s called, “The Wrong Child.” Sometimes this song sort of runs through my head at times.  If I were to try to explain what my childhood felt like, this song captures it pretty well.

I’ve watched the children come and go
A late long march into spring
I sit and watch those children
Jump in the tall grass
Leap the sprinkler
Walk in the ground
Bicycle clothespin spokes
The sound the smell of swingset hands

I will try to sing a happy song
I’ll try and make a happy game to play
Come play with me I whispered to my new found friend
Tell me what it’s like to go outside
I’ve never been
Tell me what it’s like to just go outside
I’ve never been
And I never will

I’m not supposed to be like this
I’m not supposed to be like this
But it’s okay

Hey, those kids are looking at me
I told my friend myself
Those kids are looking at me
They’re laughing and they’re running over here
They’re laughing and they’re running over here
What do I do?
What can I do?
What should I do?
What do I say?
What can I say?

I said I’m not supposed to be like this
Let’s try to find a happy game to play
Let’s try to find a happy game to play
I’m not supposed to be like this
But it’s okay, okay

REM, The Wrong Child

It is a paradox. I  wouldn’t change the way I’m wired for anything but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone either.

I can be an impartial observer, a voice, a navigator of sorts, but I don’t belong on the inside.  I really never could be that carefree child playing with other kids without being constantly wary and afraid. 

I am what I was created to be for what that is worth.  No, I don’t understand and probably never will.