There's a strange phenomenon that for some reason makes humans degrade and despise things that are different. Perhaps from an evolutionary standpoint it could make a bit of sense, for instance if there was a rare genetic mutation in an organism that harms the continuation of the species, then that organism would have a less likely chance of breeding and passing on that unneeded gene. But in today's society, differences are taboo. For instance things that don't matter for the continuation of a species are degraded, such as hair color, personality, interests, and having six fingers on each hand.
The only people in my life who didn't mind that I was different, was my family. To them I was normal, and I didn't have to worry if they liked me because they'd accept me no matter what. More specifically, my twin brother Stan. He was always my friend, the only one who really understood me. Unless I was helping him with his homework, then I might as well have been speaking a foreign language. Nevertheless he was always there for me.
However, he was one friend in a sea of enemies.
Things like "You're a six fingered freak," and "You'll never make any friends," became as familiar as "Good morning." I pretended that it didn't bother me. Stan always told me to ignore them, that one day we'd leave town and never see another one of those bullies again. But there were times I doubted if we would ever find a place where freaks like me would fit in.
I remember once in eighth grade, I had almost reached my breaking point. I knew it was stupid, I knew it was dangerous, but my sense of logic was blinded by all those horrible words. I got a large knife from the kitchen and went into the bathroom. I tried to cut my extra fingers off. Stanly pounded the door down in an instant and my father drove me to the hospital. I ended up with twelve stitches. I still remember what he told me that night.
"Stanford, what were you thinking?" He was pacing around back and forth as I was sitting on the bed. Honestly I just didn't want to move or speak or anything. "You're supposed to be the smart one! What do you think would have happened if I didn't find you in time?"
"I don't know! I just… I don't know."
Neither of us said anything for a short while, until he let out a sigh and sat down next to me.
"It's those kids at school, isn't it?"
I didn't say a word, I just nodded my head.
"Listen, Ford, those idiots can barely even count to six. Do you really think their opinion matters?"
"Well no, but-"
Suddenly he stood up and picked a random mystery book I had just finished reading from my bedside table. "Is this a good book?"
"Um, it's pretty good, yeah." He flipped through the pages as I spoke. "Honestly I figured out the ending far before it happened, but it was still well written and has excellent characters. All in all I think it's-"
"This book is terrible," he interrupted, slamming the book shut. "I hate it. Worst book ever."
"How would you know?" I snatched it away. "You've never even read it!"
"Yeah I did, I just read it!" he yelled back. Then I knew how his english teachers felt when Stan lied about doing his homework…
"You just flipped through it! You didn't even bother to read a word."
"Exactly. I didn't put any effort into getting to know this book. So why would you listen to my opinion on it? Those bullies don't know a thing about you."
"How do you know?"
"Because if they did know anything about you, they'd know how awesome you are."
And so Dipper, never forget that the opinion of people who know you is far more valuable than that of someone who doesn't. Don't listen to people who don't know what they're talking about. You have a great sister who will always be your friend. Never forget that.
And also, he might not be the smartest person, but your Grunkle Stan is very good at giving advice.