Perfect people on trip


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1. Perfect people on trip

Appearance means so much in this society. A piercing in the eyebrow can eg get the store manager to reject applicants solely because of it. What would customers say? But what if the customers did not say anything, but just bought their things and went. A friendly "Continued go weekend" may well be equally well with or without piercing?
And as soon as you see something that is different, they say either good or bad, or choose not to do anything. What is different can frighten us, offend us, despair us or change us.
When my grandmother in the summer had amputated his leg, I could not, in the immediate aftermath, not to think about it when I was with her. When she sat up in hospital bed, and I saw how some of her old body was missing, I could not help but to have get terribly sorry for her that she was partly the same grandmother, just a little more exhausted and slightly thinner I was afraid of sounding for teaching and better judgment than her when I sat and was healthy and fresh and could go straight whither I would. How do I feel also, if I am on the street looking one that I feel with healthier than. And I do not know where it comes from. I do not know how to handle that, if a disabled instance be up over a curb, but can not. I want to help, and I do, but I'm afraid that he either would not have help, or that I do not know how I should do it. But why is it so? Why can not I just look at them as if they were any other human being? They are to any other person.
It happens in fact not often that I come across a physically handicapped person, and it amazes me how they really are. I have often seen documentaries with physical disabilities who play football in a wheelchair, and tell a little about being disabled. Therefore I can not understand where they are. How they act in? Is there no room for them in the street? Fills the too much? I demand their place? The space they deserve just as much as me.
I'm used to my grandmother sitting in a wheelchair.
If there is something you are busy, it is to care about others. To find out what they are doing, saying and doing, so that, if nothing else, you can discuss it with her close. It is important to be updated in the lives of others if you have a little respect for themselves. Important to show that the others have faults and that they certainly are not the owner of the perfect life. Because if you have the perfect life, you are happy. The perfect life as a heterosexual with a wife or husband, children house and above all exhilaration and himself. Moreover, you should also preferably be beautiful and clever. Your children must follow the rules, and the same should be even. The perfect life. And if there is something that gives prestige, it is the perfect life, or at least to have elements from it. Or at least the surface of the perfect life. The surface yes. Home and Garden, kids and dog, so can not appear to be in doubt that you have your on dry land. Therefore, one can also afford to talk about other people and their pursuit of the perfect life, as clearly shown have little trouble obtaining. The main thing is that no one talks about oneself. You would not want to believe something that is not true. Something that is bad and ugly.
The only thing that creates insecurity of being ourselves is ourselves.
The only thing that can stop it is us.

Outside, the trees have long since thrown the leaves. They lie on the ground and trying to remind us of the Danish summer. The tribes are almost at one with the fog, and one can not distinguish between self and beech anymore. They are similar, and there is only the size difference.
When the bus stops in the city, I get up and go. Going out and being a people in the fog.

The bus is as always nearly full. It is morning. Outside puts the fog peaceful and cold over the city with the smådepressive and stressed people who chug around and try to get the day to funger.
I do not have music in the ears. I have had always, with I came up late and spent the time to be make-up. For I do not want to go outside the door and show my face, as it is with impurities and bags under øjnerne. That's just how it is. No one should see how I'm really looks like.
Because I do not hear music, I notice the crazy silence that revolves around the bus, and can only be broken by the man who is different. He wet the lips, he head turn around in small circles and so he mumbles. With myself. He is with Busen almost every morning, and he is always there at the back of the bus, where there are two seats across from him. I often wonder what he must. Whether he should be at work or in school like me. I can not put an age on him. When I sometimes sitting across from him, I do not know if I should not look at him or if I should smile sweetly and educational for him. I think even that I tackle it very badly. Because I did not know better.
Although he is the one that probably is so terribly at the bottom of this printed with the course hierarchy that characterizes the bus muttering morning weary mood, he is the only one that causes people to make a wave the heads turn if he suddenly utters a sound that no one understands. When people find out what it is that breaks the silence, turning their heads back and stare out into space. And I wonder if they knew that it was him without looking. I wonder if they feel ashamed? It's embarrassing to look at someone who is different, just because he is different, and so seize themselves and others in it. Is it a reflex chance to look back? Or is it hoping to get a story with home from the bus about him, suddenly said the strange sound, while students sat in the otherwise embarrassing silence?
When I was small, I played with them as occurred to me, and those who wanted to play with me. It worked earnestly and just to play with those who were there without thinking advanced by their appearance or attire. I can not remember if I knew the concept to slander, but it has slowly found an invisible way into my life that I have not asked. But I have chosen to do so. But I can not just stop it like that. And even, you can go and fear that people are talking about the strange and crazy or bad tin, as one does or does not do. Or how to look or not look.

 

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