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The Opposite of Me
When I was young, my mother used to yell at me in frustration, “Why are you so Goddamned opposite?” I would have said oppositional, but I digress. Her word choice was more the use of an expression people of her vintage seemed to like. Used in this context, opposite meant difficult, not completely different from something else. I laughed then, and I find myself laughing about it now because whichever definition you choose, the word opposite applies.
I’m a walking, talking, living, breathing list of contradictions. Everything about me screams “opposite.” And it screams it loudly. Fuck born to be wild. I was born to be opposite!
I hadn’t pondered my contradictory existence in quite some time. Then, as always seems to be the way, I was reading and felt that spark. And as always seems to be the way Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她) wrote something and offered a writing prompt that got my mind swimming. Do check it out, maybe it’ll spark your creative juices too:
When I say that I’m the opposite of myself, I’m not just employing what I thought was a pretty nifty title; I’m…
