Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Lesson 214 ~Not One Of Us~

Born in grief
Raised in hate
Helpless to defy his fate
Let him run
Let him live
But do not forget what we cannot forgive

And he is not one of us ― (Not One Of Us) from The Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride (1998)

Forgive Me Echo,
I Am Not Afraid Anymore, as a matter of fact, I’m not a lot of things. I’m not some victim of abuse, depending on how you define it, I am not a human being, again what classifies as human, and I am not going to live forever, have I at all? Speaking of my sins what am I, a coward, a hypocrite, unemployed, not yet anyway I haven’t sent in my account of things at work still.

If I haven’t said it before, how dare I, you know I’ve had my misgivings about the “#metoo” movement mainly because I’m ashamed of my actions towards women, and worse I compare my predicament with my boss to such maddening suffering. My entire life it’s, I’m not black enough, loud enough, and just not like them, so I continuously shift between being a monster and then not worth having a life at all honestly. Don’t worry Inspector Echo I’ll be alive for some time yet but as the song goes:

And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had (Mad World)

So what is stopping me from telling someone other than you and maybe Indiana Gone; I can’t say that my goals were genuinely noble when I wanted to report my boss, and there is a fine line between justice and wrath but what happens if I don’t tell? I won’t lie, and if I don’t I’ll get fired but don’t I pretend all the time, at church if I weren’t a Christian my “father” would beat my ass and at work… no job, no life. I have to keep my job at all cost, but instead of spreading my legs or ass cheeks as the case may be, I’ll have to open my mind, to break my heart, to open my mouth to lie on myself, to open my eyes and watch that bastard laugh.

Again my oldest sin, this rage that I feel and at the same time, in an exact moment of “Doublethink” I will kowtow, I will worry, I will know fear because when has anything I’ve ever written helped me? The idea of being an ordinary human, at least in America, I’m a slave to my phone, I keep up the status quo, I lie like anyone else because while the truth will set you free… of the mortal coil, it means I’m not dead yet.

So can you forgive me, may I have absolution, monsters don’t deserve it, and the problem with people is they always are sorry, and I am tired of being sad just being me and as they all seem to think now Not One Of Us?

I Will Have No Fear