The black sheep of the local family

Window. The world out there outside the window uncompromisingly following a script written by the general public. A script in which those not included in the clearly demarcated lines are the losers. While those fitting perfectly into this and that part of the line are the loudest. The loudest winners in the room. The diamond-encrusted rings. Wedding bells. School textbooks strewn across a weathered desk. Colorful photographs hung on a borrowed wall. A concrete wall on a crowded tower. A shiny car gifted with 4 wheels. An imprint of a backbone forever stored in the outer layer of a couch. A list full of complaints and great suggestions to help local government run more efficiently. Signature. I’m missing a signature. To be considered an upstanding citizen. Without it, I’m nobody. Nothing. Nothing more than a freak who lives a life at odds with the neighborhood. Just a freak who walks alone. Without a life partner. Just a freak who walks on his own two feet. Without an intelligent vehicle serving his two-fingered master.  Just a freak on a cot under a leaky roof. Without a bundle of golden keys producing a materialistic sound. Only imaginary brothers waving in his head. Without an attention-stealing group of ugly friends wearing tight jeans.

I don’t fit in here or there. Because, weak, or incapable, unprepared. To pull out the pen that would ink forever overwrite the possible and the impossible. I understand. I understand them. And maybe I don’t understand them. Is that comfort? Is it the fear of being alone? Is it a lack of ambition? Is it a lack of desire to be more and try more? I don’t know. First love. First kiss. First connection. First baby. First opportunity to borrow someone’s roof. First opportunity to serve someone’s needs. The first and the last. I mean, is it right to sign a prescription containing a future at such a young age?  Why? Why should we get married right out of high school? To beget children?  Stay loyal to one boss? Stay chained to one zip code? To be the initial version of ourselves? Am I ready to live, to be, for the next 30, 40, 50, 60 years the same way? No! I AM willing to try everything available and unavailable. I want to lose as many battles as possible. I want to taste as much fruit as possible. I want to do, I want to try this and that. At a time when my feet can jump high up the highest mountain and fall down. Into the deepest pit in the wide area. Right out of the sky.And the next day, wipe the tears from my chafed cheeks and say to myself: Thank God for yesterday. I look forward to the experience of today. Handcuffs. Luggage. Having them, having it, is nice. But limiting.

It does not allow us to move in the rhythm of circumstances. To dance in the direction of the moon. Yes. Of course I want to have them. I want to hold a beautiful soul in my arms in the open air. I want to carry a tiny angel on my shoulders and chase the invisible breeze. I want to add love to the empty, cold concrete walls. I want to put roots in the ground so that the core has the opportunity to make the surrounding garden a better, more beautiful place. But not now. Later. Not soon. Too soon. Right now, I can’t create new life when I don’t know what to do with my own life yet. I can’t tell her I’ll love you for the rest of my life when I don’t know how to love myself until at least the next sunrise. I cannot sell my soul to others when I myself do not yet know how to help others. I cannot let down anchor on a shallow shore when I myself have never yet survived a real storm on a rough sea. I need to grow. I need to fall. I need to mold the raw material into something that will be strong enough, experienced enough, scratched enough. How do I prepare someone for life, how do I give a better life to my offspring when I don’t yet know how to build a better life for myself. How am I supposed to give out advice to the younger generation when I myself have hardly experienced anything character-building? I could. But, I couldn’t wear a genuine smile on my face. I couldn’t get a restful night’s sleep.  Because somewhere deep in my heart, I would know that I could become a different person.