Mess of thoughts

The invisible Freddie

His POV:  I couldn't wait for it to get to 6pm. Sharp, at that time, every day I had exactly 45 min to truly live before I had to resume my constrained life. Some saw me as a crazy maniac, others got inspired by me but at the end of the day, what distinguishes me from all of them? Don't we all have dreams we want to chase? Lives we want to live? Why can't most do what I do? Why people let the human rules, they've created, control them? I was labelled crazy a long time ago. My physical look sometimes scared them, my wheelchair made them uncomfortable, my movements made them fear their words, so it came as a huge shock that I, the wheelchair guy, want to dance and be the next Freddie Mercury. It started innocently, me at home practising getting out of the wheelchair and copying Freddie from the TV screen. The feeling, the warm buzz it would give me to watch him, to try to be him. He gave me power, he made me forget what everyone else saw – a powerless man, a fragile human being. Well, I was not. At least not during my Freddie performances. Yes, it cost me a lot to learn, but no physical exhaustion hurts as much as people's reactions. My closest having panic attacks every time I get up, people pointing a finger at me and telling me "Careful you might get worse!", "Could it get worse?" I wondered the world blames me for my passion because I am labelled, branded as the disabled guy. But who are they to tell me I am disabled, I can do this, I know I can and I will continue. And so I maned up and went to the Leeds train station for my first performance as Freddie. I had my costume, I was ready with my moves and no one, I said, no one could stop me. I loved it, I saw some expressions of excitement, pure horror, kindness but it all faded away. When you do what you are born to do, it all fades away. And so it became a routine for me to show the world my true face, the real me, a dancer in disguise.

Third POV: A little girl with braided hair, a pink dress and the biggest smile, a kid could have around Christmas was meant to go on a train at the Leeds Train Station that evening. Her mum was in a hurry, going crazy that they might miss their train. The girl was a very clever 8 years old, who played the piano and was called a very musically gifted kid. Her name was Chelsea. She loved listening to music and had a big obsession with certain artists. She would learn all their songs and perform for her parents. Chelsea's mum was now running and just when she was about to go inside the train station, she heard a scream. It was Chelsea whose hand had slipped from her grasp. The mum turned around and started to panic when she saw Chelsea running towards some guy next to his wheelchair. "Freddie, Freddie!" Chelsea screamed. She lifted her small hand and tried to touch his hand. She had tears in her eyes, he was real, he was there, her real-life Freddie. The dancer stopped and looked at her, his eye told his story, his sad, tragic but beautiful story and she could see it all. The guy sat down in the wheelchair and grasp her small hand. The mother and her child missed the train but that was not important because something very very rare happened. An act of pure humanity happened. Something so precious that the average running late for the trained person just couldn't grasp. But for these two people, it was everything. It gave our main character the strength to continue and even go further by travelling to different train stations, the girl indeed felt the power of the encounter as well and became one of the strongest, most emotional singers on stage.

Never underestimate the energy of pure emotions, after all, they are the ones that drive the world, not us the mere humans.