No human is perfect, yet we helplessly drown into false preconceptions, because it’s supposed to mean the truth. While the truth never was one ready-made suit for everyone to wear. Truth is unique made specially for each. One is supposed to embrace the quirkiness inside every unique soul and let it breath out. Let me dream of the wonderland Alice has fallen into. A land where she could be as unusual as one can be. I could be who the hell I dream to be. I don’t know I’m discovering, I said, when he asked me, who am I? Discovering far from typical. Searching far away, far from ready-made suits that unsuited me for so long. My queerness is my power. They will assume how sad I am for being this way. They will say sick, mad or unfortunate. But they don’t know how sorry I am for them to be the same. Raise your eyes high above the horizon. Bail on the race of perfection. Be your Alice in your wonderland, where all the things you love remain.