~ Seeing. Not Looking ~

There's not only death and hate in this world.
And I know that, of course I do.
Moments where people you rarely know suddenly are so damn cute you wonder why the hell you never talked much with them.
Precious moments. I keep them safe in my heart.

A good friend bitching around and making a stupid scene.... I am used to it.
I roll my eyes and turn around, period.
Yes, it's always that simple. For me anyway.

But those little facts don't have the power to destroy a wonderful day.
I felt loved, safe and well.

When on stage, or just in costume, thus being in-character (whatever character that may be at that moment), I never had to hide myself.
As silly as it may sound.
When being another person I could act like I normally would.
Like myself, being myself.
Brilliant feeling.

So I was able to yell things at my companions, and on the front line always Samuel "Sam" Holloway, about them being oblivious to obvious facts.
Well, obvious to me anyway.
It must have been a hundred times.
Even more I guess. Always stating the obvious and insulting Sam for being a moron, blind and oblivious.
Looking back, my dear Samuel, you were the "Anderson" of our group. And I'm not sorry for saying that now.
However, we teamed up pretty well, didn't we?

Yet ... in normal life ... I can't do that.
There I am the one who gets yelled at, even insulted and harassed for being annoyed by idiocy and even for just sighing or rolling my eyes at something or someone.
Tedious.

Oh so many wondered and asked how it is to be like me.
Or just to be me.
However, it's hard to explain and someone that never experienced something similar propably won't understand.
There's no particular reason for every single detail, but people are always demanding particular reasons.

But..... to cite an example:
There is no explanation why I'm not affected when some family member dies. Or a close friend. Or someone else.
It's a fact, period.
I can't change that behaviour and I can't change the way my heart works.
Some even assume I don't have one anyway. But I doubt that.

I accept that most people have to cry or are otherwise affected by death, so why can't they accept my way of dealing with that?
I don't request them to *understand* it, but acceptance should at least be possible.