Be Yourself

A monologue I just suddenly came up with.

Soon, dust will be me, collected in a casket, and thrown six feet deep into a memory that will be forgotten long after I've gone. So what is it you say that I live for, aside the obvious satisfaction you muster whilst comparing me along side yourself? Ah, funny how you compare two such opposite things. Quite contradictory, actually. You only see what begs to be seen, not what hides underneath the flattery. What is within me to be a better man, when a single flaw denotes dirt over the flower, rotten and overused, unable to grow anything but contempt. And that is what I have done. I have accentuated upon my anger, and have enforced it upon thee rightfully so in my eyes, but your translation deems it rude and rather unnecessary. Unnecessary, you say? Like that of the judgments you pass over me now, as I speak these words riddled with a truth known but never spoken aloud, and why? Out of fear for those who do not know me anymore than they know the purpose to life? I pay no mind to those who do not wish to find more than what is presented by an exterior not chosen by myself, and yet if the choice were to be on the table, I'd still walk away.

I am me, undoubtedly so. To negate that fact would be sheer stupidity, though I invite some to relish in the idea. Go ahead. It would be most amusing. Right. No one enjoys mockery, especially when it points a knobby finger at themselves. But it's quite hilarious watching a strapping young lad like myself struggle up a fifteen degree incline. It's so damn hilarious, this life. A big joke. Like that nice verbal assault you gave that poor kid about his being overweight. Or that snicker you gave behind that lovely lady's back about her face and how it looks as though a street sweeper did a mighty fine job of plowing it over. Why is it that you feel above others when you stoop so low to make them feel as worthless as a dollar bill? And do you honestly believe that that sort of behavior somehow calculates to being cool? Or will anybody truthfully remember that guy or girl that put a depressed teenager through a mental institution just to get some gratification out of the hellhole we all called high school?

See, we all have our standards. Our pet peeves. Things that drive us crazy and things that we find hypocritical, even though we probably do them as well. We have what we think looks good or what doesn't, who is absolutely gorgeous and who looks like a depraved version of Gollum from The Lord of the Rings. But what happens when all those walls break down, and for that one moment, you see the world in its imperfection, in all its flawed creation, and believe in one breath that nothing else could be more exquisite or beautiful?

Being different is a gift. Sure, assimilating is comfortable. But roller coasters aren't. And they're way more fun than the carousel.

Reviews

[Night]

This piece really made me think. Of life, and our entire being.
'But what happens when all those walls break down, and for that one moment, you see the world in its imperfection, in all its flawed creation, and believe in one breath that nothing else could be more exquisite or beautiful?' I love this sentence. It spoke of a condensed Truth that can not be said in a thousand words. The world is imperfect. That is precisely what makes it worth living in.
You write stories as well as you write poetry (and that is very well indeed). I thank you for sharing this (you always make me discover new things about the world and myself!)

Brilliant Work!

[WizardsAffliction]

Thanks! :D And you're most welcome, deary.

[Night]

I really loved this! Can you notify me if you put any more stories up? *pretty please?*

[WizardsAffliction]

Doesn't show up on your news feed? haha. Of course I will.
There's a poem called "Untitled" that was posted a couple days ago if you want to take a gander.

[Night]

Ah...I see it! Thanks