Being a freak is hard. Always being the outsider, the social pariah of sorts is far from fun. My whole life I’ve been intrigued by the darker sides of life, the grotesque, the disturbing, and the taboo. I am constantly judged and criticized for the things I’m passionate for. I think people forget that someone has to handle the dark things in the world so that the general population can live in their bubbles of rainbows and puppies.
I was dating a boy, and meeting his family was always dreadful. He was going to school to become a civil engineer, and me? I’m on a path of forensic entomology, profiling, and psychological abnormalities. Whenever I was asked, “what are you studying to be?” I would see the visible cringe on peoples faces when I answered “homicide detective.”
I always get, “isn’t that dangerous,” “why would you want to be around killers,” “isn’t that a man’s job?” Sometimes people talk about how sad they get when discovering the dark depths of the world, and how hard it is to read/hear about certain cases. I think it’s important to acknowledge them. To teach people more about observancy, empathy, and kindness.
I suppose everyone must get tired of criticism, because everyone is subjected to it. This week was exhausting for me, harder than usual. Especially as the anniversary of my dad’s death is quickly approaching, being sick, and falling behind, my exhaustion has caught up with me. Maybe everyone just needs a small break from the norm.
Musing Murder Mysteries 