I’m sitting
Cramped
In a tight spot
So jammed between neighbors at our breathing mingles And we as a whole
A Whole
Act as one behemoth Consciousness
Identity
Being
And every breath I breathe
Is but a solitary note
In the orchestra’s context.
And yet,
My timing is slightly o .
I march to the beat of a unique drummer
Whose booming whacks are
e speed with which blood courses through me
To dictate my diaphragm
In its intricate intake patterns.
I am di erent To be simple.
Not di erent enough that I don’t belong,
But also
Di erent enough that I can’t belong.
You see,
I look like you Walk like you Talk like you
Dress like you (Well, sort of) Act like you-
And that is all a lie.
A very subtle one at that, In that
I may be you in the Outward sense of the word But
Inside
I have a di erent build
I am of di erent stu .
You feel it don’t you?
You feel it subconsciously
In the back of your mind
On the blackest horizon of your Jungle imagination.
You can kind of feel it
Oozing o of me
In the slight in ections in my voice And the awkward edge of my Gestic- ulations.
Is it okay with you that I am di er- ent?
Not in the merit of diversity
Or ethnicity
Or population density propensity No, it’s in
Rather more of a detail oriented di erence
With few, but
Signi cant
Changes in my script.
I hope to heck it’s okay for yo Because
It’s now well ne with me.
I used to ache with a persistent nausea
at only came to light in that savage Late hour when
I’d be brushing my teeth to the beat of a song
I was humming in my throat, when I would
Check if the bathroom door was locked so I could
Wail my heart out
Without worrying about how-
Well-
Dumb
I sound…
And
After-
I would look at my gaunt face in the unforgiving mirror
In cruel, uorescent restroom lighting
And feel a deep-seated sense of dis- comfort
As though I were a square peg in- Well-
Okay, ne
A square hole, yes,
Which,
Would be nice if it weren’t, So tight a t.
I’ve given up on that headache.
I no longer give whether I will ever truly belong,
Whether
All my friends are the leftovers of the clique draft pick
Whether
I am nervous about entering a new system.
Now,
I am my own system. My own rulebook. My own to judge.
Know that I am very happy to accept you, as
A part of my life
A holder of a sandy handful Of my ephemeral time and Attention.
But
I won’t waste my e orts
On someone who isn’t worth it.
My only standard is Basic decency.
I know,
A bit harsh, isn’t it?
I like every person Because I am every person But with a sardonic twist.
I hope you like exotic avor Because now I’m here
In front of you
And we begin our story with a Pro- logue to dialogue:
Enter me stage left Enter you stage right;
“Hi! I’m-”
