Consider the black licorice jellybean.  When I put one in my mouth and start chewing, the vile flavor of anise fills my mouth and I clench my jaw, hoping that my teeth will be able to hold back the forces of my tongue as it seeks to eject the unwelcome intruder from my mouth.

There are those, however, who love black licorice jellybeans.  They savor them.  They cannot get enough of them.  They keep a jar by their bedside so they can eat them day and night.

This is the same jellybean.  One person likes it.  Another doesn’t.  It isn’t the jellybean’s fault.

If the jellybean changes itself to suit everyone, then it’s no longer black licorice.  It has become something else.  Something a little less potent.  A little less edgy.  It will be so much less than it was.

It is no longer itself.

We are all black jellybeans.  Everyone doesn’t have to like us for us to be great.  We just have to be the very best us that we can be.

Don’t apologize for being a unique flavor.  Unlike the black jellybean, you are one of a kind, and there is no other flavor like you.