Off Script
Realism refusing to bow to performance
Narcissism. It’s starting to look like less of a disorder, and more like an entire belief system, huh…
Passed down from generation to generation. The bullies that took lunch money from the less fortunate children at school. The ones that objectified young ladies whose bodies were blossoming into their own unique womanhood. Hail to the ones that grew into a wildflower rather than another, perfectly manicured, red rose from their garden of expectations. One in a dozen.
Family members, friends, close ones are typically the same, that is, if they want to be the favored child, spouse, cousin, friend, neighbor, stranger.
It takes a hell of a lot more grit to be that outcasted child, spouse, friend, neighbor, coworker, stranger. So, if you feel it’s better for you to take what you consider the easy way out, with your golden ticket of societal acceptance, I understand.
But that shiny golden ticket will only take you so far in a crumbling society…with evil as propriety.
While you scheme behind the curtain, and then cleverly improv on stage, there’s an audience gently reaching for each others’ hands, out of love and support of our neighbor, child, spouse, friend, stranger…because, from our perspective, we see the danger.
Oh, yeah…we’re so silly. We’re crazy. That gaslight has always remained bright…right?
Suppressed, undressed, stressed and told we’re blessed
To have a bumbling fool scream and spit in our face, and categorize us by class, level of empathy, and race. What a disgrace he has made of this place…and the human race.
People are conditioned to hide their natural talents, their natural voices, warp their perception and rethink their direction.
There are the ones that are ridiculed for going off script. Cutting the marionette strings, and simply becoming human beings.
But I’m not going to fight back in a way that you’d wish I would. “It’s ok, bro. I’m not mad at you.”…We’ll give you plenty of rope…keep doing what you do.
They’d rather burn the whole world down, with the help of flying monkeys before they’ll be exposed. Our job was to do all we’re told, all primped and posed.
You stepped on us, while throwing out compliments and empty promises just to climb to the top. You think you’re unstoppable, but one day, you’ll stop.
How do I know this? Because I’ve been held captive by you. I was the daughter, the friend, the neighbor, the cousin, coworker, church member, the stranger to you.
I’ve worked with the rotting corporate cliques that turn against you when you blow the whistle on wrongdoing. And every step taken toward personal success, hearing nothing but booing.
I’ve sat in church, noticing the side eye, the one that was begging me to notice, so that they know that I know that I’m less…and have no business entering their country club, especially in that dress.
I was categorized, labeled, classed, and told to just marry rich. Poor or rich, why? For my security, only to be addressed as a “fucking bitch”?
I get pushed down when I resist, told to remember my place. Actually, excuse me…I’ll embrace my sacred space…with my true friends, neighbors, companion…with grace.
