I’m me. I am strange. I know I am and I have come to accept that.The problem is that no-one else knows just how strange they are too. Just because I have come to terms with it, makes me ”stranger”.The truth is, I like being strange. I like being me. If I’m not me, who am I? You? Her? Him? All three? No. I am me.I know who I am. I am crazy and quiet; I am happy and sad; I am friendly and mean. I am strange and different.I know my faults and my weaknesses. I know what causes me pain and suffering. I know my excellence and strengths. I know what makes me happy and content. I know me.My life is not perfect. It has its down turns and it has its upturns. It has parts to remember and parts to forget. It has twists and it changes in a flash. No, my life is not perfect, but it’s mine.I am strange. I am me.