Someone told me people are strange. In fact, that someone was me. I came to that simple conclusion myself. Everyone has a mash up of good and bad in their lives that they create or are exposed to. Some are messier than others--whether figuratively or literally--and some just think they are. Whatever you qualify as, you're strange and I don't understand you. No matter how much I learn about patterns there's always one of you that will fuck it up. Frankly, there is no straightforward pattern. There will always be someone outside the line. I try to be that person, because if I follow the pattern I know how it ends. Everyone knows it.
Suffer through school, get a job, make enough money to tell the world that you're not obligated to work anymore, die in a safe place if you're lucky...And don't forget the kids.
But what if I was to fuck with that pattern, go left instead of right? You stand out. Sometimes the people in the line applaud you, sometimes they don't. Sometimes the outsider dies because of it. That's not how I want to go, but there's always that risk. Is it going to stop me? No. The line scares me, as does inevitability. They are one in the same.
So I'll eventually "step out of line", but it will be for the right reasons.
YOU ARE READING
The Book of Healing
PoetryShe's not okay, but writing it down helps. - Part I: It's time to rip off the band-aid. Poems: slam, traditional, free-verse. The first twenty are not up to par with the others, but this is an ongoing journey so I feel the need to include them...
