When I was thirteen there was one girl who I admired more than any other, she wore a black dress, and owned four black cats. Her name was Emily Strange. She was very much fictional, but every part real to me.
I adorned my walls with her posters, I dressed in her t-shirts and spoke of nothing else but how cool it would be to be her, one day.
Now we all know, I didn’t actually grow up to be her. I did break out of my black uniform, and I did get a cat. But he was grey and much fluffier.
Admiring kitty graffiti in George Town, Penang.
The point is I’m wondering whether that little part of Emily Strange is still in me. Because, as I grow older I find myself living a stranger lifestyle...
Yes, I am married, own a house, work a job and drive a car. These are pretty normal things. But, I wonder if my personality, hobbies, interests and dreams really fall into any sort of normality at all.
I laugh ridiculously loud, I get far too excited when I am happy and I find myself proclaiming my love for fruit at every opportunity.
I dream big and I never stop soul searching. I daydream over daydream – and still have a maddening desire to see the WHOLE world. My dreams play a massive part in my life.
I find it hard to relax and switch off, I refuse to let anyone dampen my spirit – but often only see the good in people.
I’m wondering whether it really is possible to live a normal life with an extraordinary personality?
Sometimes it almost feels, as if I am battling the two.