On occasion, a phantom visits: the rogue spirit of normalcy. I marvel at its eternal tenacity and occasionally get pulled into the droning enthusiasm. I adopt the requisite posture and color within stated lines. I work and pay my taxes. I watch mindless television and buy unnecessary consumer goods. I do all the expected things but as soon as I catch a glimpse of that opaque changeling in my mirror, I drop the insincere pretense of bearing a ‘normal’ life.
I am not him and he is not me.
Be true to yourself and just be.
This specter of expectation wants everyone to ‘fit it’. It wants a stale, uniform society for all. One where every blade of grass in a manicured yard leans in the same direction. I could never fit into that prefabricated, sterile framework; any more than a fleeing fox could just up and fly away. In the end, we all revert back to our natural, imperfect forms.
The phantom bids adieu and goes on his way.
One day he’ll be back but here I must stay.