Sometimes I seem to lose sight of the person I am, seeing only the one I've become. The one that all the cold, foreign hands of those who thought they knew what's good for me, have shaped. The me that would have conquered this body of mine naturally, has been imprisoned by all the etiquette, manners, thousands of polite ways to say "no" and billion ways of how to say "I agree".
It’s not a question of knowledge. I do –excruciatingly so – recognize the feelings that have their source deep in my original being. I recognize the person that none of those people, darling friends and not so dear former lovers, who claim to read me like an open letter, wouldn’t. But the truth is that the process of acknowledgement of the acumen about my true form isn’t that amusing of a chore.
It is so much easier to succumb and act on artificial instinct etched on the very core of your pith and not the reactions you vaguely remember are yours. It is way more pleasant to go with the flow and not fight the inexhaustible current. How could a single human possibly stop the flood, that has already engulfed all that there is to devour a long time ago?
Swimming to current-flow will tire you, but not the stream you tried to oppose. Soon you’ll notice you are even farther away from the place where it was okay to shed all of your masks and oh ever so slight fabrications of the truth. You’ll drift all the way to the ocean and become one with the sea, with all the other people claimed by the whirlpools of properness. We could call the whirlpools the society, but they’ve made us forget we once had personalities of our own. We have to be what the society needs us to be. What else could we possibly want? You have a snug place made ready for you, people filling their roles around you and helping you fill yours.
A woman is a mother, a man is the head of family. Children can’t think for themselves, women shouldn’t think and men can only think of themselves. Marriage is essential to keep the women for getting any ideas of their own and to keep men for straying from the correct road too. Cats eat mice and all the horses should be brown. Whores are whores by choice and you can exploit them all you want.
The surges carrying you through the chaste life you never wanted, but everybody wanted for you, may consist of malicious stratagems and deceit, but there is no need to try wrapping your pretty little head around it. The thinking has been done for you, so be a good little boy and play the part written especially for you.
But the truth is that we are not little boxes that automatically fit together. We are humans.
We are the rocks at the bottom of this pseudo-sea and even though from far away we may look similar, we are unique. We change. We evolve. And someday, one of the rocks may turn out to be a perfect little pearl of white, not even close to the grayish hue we are expected to be.
I might be loosing sight of the inner me, fumbling to keep him close to me, but the truth is that he never disappears either. No matter how many times I end up my face under the surface, how many times I feel like I’m drowning…he will smile under my mask and make the tiring façade his own little game.
This world has it’s ways but I have mine. A sea can be sailed and rivers can be crossed. You don’t have to be driftwood, you can be…you.
This world has it’s ways, but… I’ll tell you a secret. Or rather, the truth.
There will always be people who think they are above everybody else. That they can decide for you, know what’s good for you. That’s a fact you can’t change. What you need to do is not to just suck it up and live the life laid out for you. What you need to do is-
“Sam, what are you doing? Writing?” An affectionate voice and warm hands circling his waist startled the blonde man crouched over a parchment. Recognizing the presence behind him he smiled. “Yeah.” “I thought we were going to see Andromeda and Nimsk tonight?” “We are. I’m just finishing.” “Okay, no hurry. I’ll go make some tea for us.” The other said, kissing the head covered by golden curls. “Mm. Thanks love.”
Leonardo sighed and turned his gaze back to the sheet with his quill ready in hand.
What you need to do is- no, what you must, most definetly, do is taking yourself out of the box you’ve lived inside since birth. You must listen to yourself, find out what they want, what they believe in and are they happy. But I must warn you, in the name of all fairness, it may result in something frightening.
See, you might notice the happiness you thought you felt wasn’t really but an echo of the real thing. You might realize that the life you are living isn’t the one you want. And I'm sorry to break this to you, if it was never your desire to hear this, but we have only one life. And it's not going to end to the words "happily ever after".
It's going to end with the greatest mystery to the mankind: Death.
If we assume we only get a one go, then why waste it pleasing others? You can't make everybody happy, there always be someone that finds you displeasing. So why not, even at this one thing - let's not be overly selfish -,pleasing yourself by giving you a right to choose?
Let's not try swimming against a tidal wave, when we can surf on it.
Vaihtoehtoinen SIIRAPPIlisä SEKOITA HYVIN/ OMSKASKAS!:
Ps. As I've warned you already - a numerous times - I won't have guilty conscience of possibly leading you astray, because astray is always good when it's conscious. So now for the good parts. I'm not going to describe you all the joy I've found, but... I must confess the fruits of my waywardness are something I wouldn’t give away for the world. Especially the crazy tea-guy.
Leonardo snorted at the last line and wondered if he should overline it, because if this was going to be published...he would be in so much trouble. He heard off-tone singing from the kitchen, where his partner obviously thought the boiling water would drown out the sound of his "aria". He couldn't help but chuckle at the other man, who then peeked from the door.
"Did you say something?" He asked curiously, a slight flush on his face. Whetever it was from the warm glow of their kitchen or embarrassment of possibly being heard, it didn't really matter.
"Care to repeat it?"
"I love you"