I want to know that for a period of time during my life I cared less about how I was seen by people than I did about being seen for real. How I was made is ugly. Oh well. Lots of us are odd concoctions. Maybe if we admit our deficiencies we'll encourage more compassion in the way we measure the deficiencies in others. Sure, and monkeys will fly out my butt.
And I would be alright with it if I didn't have the angry sibling hellbent on taking that away, too. I could be alright if I could understand what it is about us hominids that gets pleasure, and satisfaction, from participating in the destruction of a fellow hominid.
Why do we devote so much time to presenting ourselves as 'right', or 'together' when we know we're not? And why do we destroy the broken among us to promote ourselves? It's like, totally bogus.
What could any of us have done to deserve being eradicated, and excused?
- Did I cause pain? Sorry, that one's part of the contract. If you don't like it, impeach the Almighty. His idea.
- Did I let you down? Not nearly to the extent I've failed myself. Get in line.
- Did I expose you? My apologies. Missed the memo that held you exempt from being found out in the world, and the 'free pass' on public humiliation. Anyhow, wouldn't have honored it. You play by the same rules as the rest of us, or don't play at all.
New Rule
I've been candid about what I have, and how precarious my existence is, yet the righteous sibling
is still unsatisfied. All I have left is my story, literally, and she wants that too. Unfortunately for her, that isn't up to either of us. It was written before I arrived, and I'm just stacking bricks so it might make sense to someone in need of validation, or a voice. I'm here to reach out to anyone cowering in the shadows, and needing help. I can't help you if you're burdened with routine success.
What if the story I'm telling, the story you're telling, and the stories each of us tell are ghost written, and part of the overall plan? What if the world is depending upon them? Absurd? Maybe, but how do you explain Richard Simmons, or Snookie, or William Hung?
See?
Does it really hurt to let it be told? Are you really worried someone might find out you're not perfect? What if you approached my story like it says nothing about you?
We can pinky swear we'll let your story do that.
What if you heard my story with compassion, and I heard yours with empathy? What if we told our stories with the understanding that we're not in a competition? This happened to you...that happened to me.....let's get some pizza. Can that be any harder than keeping documents for 8 years, always wondering when you'll get to use them, pulling them out, driving over to see your nephews, trying to get their attention, and their allegiance, trying to shut me up, and re-writing our family history?
Don't think so, no.
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New rule:
Whenever we notice an individual who just can't figure life out,
an individual that doesn't harm others, but can't avoid harming herself,
an individual who turns right when they're supposed to, but veers left anyway,
an individual who works as hard as the rest of us, but whose pile never gets smaller,
an individual who will never win an award, but deserves one,
we agree not to pass judgement, or attach labels.
we agree to accept that we don't know what they've encountered,
or how they've been affected.
Even if we think we're too cool to let that affect us.
Take us out, William....
