“The government holds the key to the wonderful door of opportunity. They swing it in front of our face like a pendulum, keeping us hypnotized while they brainwash us into doing as they want us to do while maintaining the impression that it is what we truly want and desire, so therefore we shall seek it. Using the key to freedom and happiness as bait, and keeping it forever out of reach, they lure us into their gigantic cage to keep us eternally contained.” –Almondie Shampine-
To love deeply without conditions is by the far the greatest weakness and fault one can have in this day and age, within a society that prides itself on efficiency, productivity, and self-sufficiency. It is like being born with a preference for peace and pacifism in a country that is always at war. Coming into a thriving booming economy piss poor. It is being the only black person in a town that is white. Being raised in utopia with an instinctual urge to fight. Operating in the heartless mafia with a heart full of remorse. Withholding a perspective of choice in a society that dominates by force. It is being the only female amidst a navy of men, unable to conform to the present population trend. A world of stripes while remaining a spot. Preferring the cold in a climate so hot. One cannot feel wanted unless they belong. One must conform in order to get along. But an Albino in Texas will not fare well at all, as my nature to love so deeply is my greatest downfall.
My struggle began February 4th, 1982, the date of my birth three months shy of my due date. A small chance of survival, I took that seven percent and ran with it. The airplane runs down the airstrip gathering speed for the final liftoff. I just haven’t been able to run fast enough to spread my wings and fly because of the obstacles and debris that keep landing in my path. I suppose it can be my fault, as I chose to construct my own path rather than follow that of others. In the beginning of time there were no paths or no trails. There were no tracks and no roads, no maps and no arrows. They all dreamed of the beyond, but it took a person strong and brave, afraid but undeterred to find it. Who was that warrior that took the first step out of Eden? How much resistance did he encounter from all of those who believed that Eden was the way it was and was the way it always would be?
“You’ll get yourself killed, you’ll bring our God’s wrath upon us all. Why can’t you be normal like everyone else? Your siblings are all settled and wed, with heirs, with homes, and with jobs. We all have a duty to society to make it run smoothly. Why must you defy it? No good will ever come to you as long as you keep dreaming. My best advice to you is to conform to the path that was provided you at your birth.”
“Never. I must fly. I must fly. There is so much, so much more. A place that’s not corrupted. A path I must explore.”
He was not a follower as he did not wind up with the rest. He was not a leader as they all defied his quest. It is hard to believe in those things that you cannot see around you, so most succumb to what they know until otherwise convinced. So this outcast in society started out on his own, never losing faith in what he believed in as he constructed his own road. Through weeds and trees and thorns, through burning eyes of scorn, over rocks and hills and mountains to raging water fountains. Through blood and sweat and tears in facing unknown fears, he battled to the end beat and bent and broken. At the end of his destination through glory and fascination, he collapsed to the ground amidst all that he had found, closed his eyes for his final contended rest in having completed his horrifying, glorifying conquest.
It was not for another generation or so when this road was accidentally found. The leader gathered his followers made courageous in the knowing that someone had walked the road before. It was already built, they only need follow. So the leader led and the follower’s followed until they reached the skeleton that lay claim to this whole new world. The leader was admired and he was adored. He would go down in history as a hero, a legend for having found this haven. He would establish his own community and they would become a society as they tilled the fertile soil enriched with the blood and the tears, the sweat and the troubles of an outcast long ago that no one would ever remember.
I am not the first on the path I reconstruct, but years of neglect due to other paths of convenience promising power and wealth, glory and fame, riches and good health has left it nearly extinct. There is no longer a clear trail and its path is forboding. It is dark and it is quiet except for the eerie sounds of disturbance. There was a time when the path was lit with love and laughter and spirit, but now that light has faded from its heart overgrown and shaded. Now there are only the shadows to mourn the loss of what used to be, waiting for the outcast of the present society.
I knew as a child that I was different as I could be like no one else, no matter how hard I tried to belong. Yes, I did not choose this. It was chosen for me. I tried to conform. I tried to belong. Oh, how I tried, but it is a feat that remains unaccomplished as no matter how hard I study and observe, memorize and mimic those actions and behaviors, those perspectives and thoughts and feelings of others, I cannot remove the aura that surrounds me that betrays my effort with its evidence of my difference. It is not something you can see or smell or touch or taste. It must be something the other’s feel when I am present. They feel it. They fear it. Because it is different.
At first I followed the path that everyone is assigned to when they are born, placed in separate categories and classes based on who they are. I tirelessly went from one group to another in search of my place. Some are completely happy and content in the place at first assigned. They walk their designated pace, making sure to stay on the side and out of the way. Others are not satisfied, motivation quickens their steps. They see the glory way up top and they desire it, so they push and shove and run and race to catch up with the leaders. Beginning from the very back, the lowest on the chart, I too desired something more, something better, so I quickened my pace. My family kept me prisoner, contained in our birthright (birthwrong), but at 15 years I knotted the string that would hold us and I spread my wings.
“Why do you have to move so fast? Why are you in such a rush to live? You have so much time ahead of you. Slow down. Slow down,” my mother said.
“If I don’t go faster, I’ll never have the speed to fly. Just let me go and let me lead and I will take you with me.”
Just as a body burdened by weight will not float, my baggage would not let me fly, but I would not betray them, I could not betray them. They didn’t see the things that I saw. They didn’t see the beyond. But I would take them there and they would see, and then finally they would love me. With each new group I passed, I made another knot. Just because their gait was slow didn’t mean that they couldn’t have the glory. Birth should not determine one’s placement, not in this world of opportunity. I will take them all with me!
But the more knots I tied, the heavier the load I carried became.
I watched the others flying by, pushing and shoving and trampling like a herd of cattle. Are we beast or are we human? I questioned time and time again. I would never be like them, so selfish and so mean. I would never hurt another soul in my pursuit of freedom. I came across a fallen woman, beat and bruised and broken. She could not walk as her legs had been crushed by the aspiring politician.
I couldn’t leave her there to die, so I strapped her to my back. I picked up more fallen men and women and children and welcomed them aboard, noticing that the further I walked, the path was more littered with sprawled lifeless bodies. Though the others kicked them aside, stepped over them or upon them, I stopped at each one to check their pulse to be sure that they were dead.
Finally I reached the point where I could see the beyond I’d been seeking. Before me stood the mountain with the glory at the top. I stepped in something sticky and looked down at the ground. I shouldn’t have been surprised that it was covered in blood. The red puddle became a red stream and the red stream became a red pond, the red pond became a red lake and the red lake turned into sea. Drowning in the blood of others were the ones that drew the blood. There were screams and shouts and wails of pain as more were pushed from the mountain to descend into the flood. The only howls of laughter were from those who held a gun, shooting down their contemporaries in their twisted form of fun.
No! No! I thought distraught. This isn’t what I was seeking. Where did I go wrong? Did I take a wrong turn? I couldn’t have gone astray because I followed where the others went and we couldn’t have all lost our way.
I stood along the side of the road and pulled out my directions. I traced the line from birth to present and wound up in the same place.
Oh, to be a child again. Why does everything have to change? From hope and love and innocence, purity and peace, from happiness and joyfulness to . . . this?
And suddenly it occurred to me, I turned the map around. All along we’d been going south when north was the great beyond.
“No! Stop! Everyone, listen to me!”
“What is this about, young lady. I’m late for my destiny.”
“Yeah, stop holding up traffic. If you’re too lazy to go on, move aside!”
“No, no, you don’t understand. We’ve gotten it all wrong.”
“I don’t have the patience nor the time for this inconvenient holdup. If you don’t close that trap of yours, I’m going to shut it up.”
“We’re going the wrong way.”
“You little snot, get out of the way!”
I was pushed harshly, and I stumbled into another. This person fell and hit the next rioting the domino effect.
“You see what you’ve done? Do you see? Do you see?”
“But I didn’t do anything. That mean man pushed me.”
“Tell me stupid girl, what is your name?”
“My name? My name is Glory. I need you to listen to me.”
“Glory.”
“Her name is Glory.”
“Glory is her name.”
“Glory’s the one that hurt us.”
“Glory’s keeping us from our fame.”
“Everyone remember Glory.”
“Glory does not belong.”
“No one listen to Glory.”
“Glory is all wrong.”
“Get out of the way Glory.”
“Go back from whence you came.”
“No one cares to hear your story.”
“From here on out, Glory is to be called Shame.”
“She is to wear the scarlet letter.”
“For all eternity.”
“Cleanse yourself from having met her.”
“Glory is no longer part of destiny.”
“Do you hear yourselves? Do you hear yourselves? Do you hear what you are saying? You will not have your glory at the horrid cost you’re paying?” I said.
“We don’t want Glory.”
“We all want the same.”
“We don’t need Glory.”
“Our need is wealth and fame.”
I pled with them to listen, but they refused to hear. They just kept walking into that sea of blood, so blinded by their selfish desire that they couldn’t see beyond. All those fallen that I’d carried turned their backs on me. All the ones I’d pulled along wouldn’t even acknowledge me. I stumbled along the path telling everyone I passed to follow me. They laughed and they snickered. They degraded me. They threw sticks and they threw stones and they shattered my bones. My mother would not look at me. My father struck me and sent me away, telling me I’d brought great shame upon the family. So this is how I came to be on this path that no one follows.
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To love deeply without conditions is by the far the greatest weakness and fault one can have in this day and age, within a society that prides itself on efficiency, productivity, and self-sufficiency. It is like being born with a preference for peace and pacifism in a country that is always at war. Coming into a thriving booming economy piss poor. It is being the only black person in a town that is white. Being raised in utopia with an instinctual urge to fight. Operating in the heartless mafia with a heart full of remorse. Withholding a perspective of choice in a society that dominates by force. It is being the only female amidst a navy of men, unable to conform to the present population trend. A world of stripes while remaining a spot. Preferring the cold in a climate so hot. One cannot feel wanted unless they belong. One must conform in order to get along. But an Albino in Texas will not fare well at all, as my nature to love so deeply is my greatest downfall.
My struggle began February 4th, 1982, the date of my birth three months shy of my due date. A small chance of survival, I took that seven percent and ran with it. The airplane runs down the airstrip gathering speed for the final liftoff. I just haven’t been able to run fast enough to spread my wings and fly because of the obstacles and debris that keep landing in my path. I suppose it can be my fault, as I chose to construct my own path rather than follow that of others. In the beginning of time there were no paths or no trails. There were no tracks and no roads, no maps and no arrows. They all dreamed of the beyond, but it took a person strong and brave, afraid but undeterred to find it. Who was that warrior that took the first step out of Eden? How much resistance did he encounter from all of those who believed that Eden was the way it was and was the way it always would be?
“You’ll get yourself killed, you’ll bring our God’s wrath upon us all. Why can’t you be normal like everyone else? Your siblings are all settled and wed, with heirs, with homes, and with jobs. We all have a duty to society to make it run smoothly. Why must you defy it? No good will ever come to you as long as you keep dreaming. My best advice to you is to conform to the path that was provided you at your birth.”
“Never. I must fly. I must fly. There is so much, so much more. A place that’s not corrupted. A path I must explore.”
He was not a follower as he did not wind up with the rest. He was not a leader as they all defied his quest. It is hard to believe in those things that you cannot see around you, so most succumb to what they know until otherwise convinced. So this outcast in society started out on his own, never losing faith in what he believed in as he constructed his own road. Through weeds and trees and thorns, through burning eyes of scorn, over rocks and hills and mountains to raging water fountains. Through blood and sweat and tears in facing unknown fears, he battled to the end beat and bent and broken. At the end of his destination through glory and fascination, he collapsed to the ground amidst all that he had found, closed his eyes for his final contended rest in having completed his horrifying, glorifying conquest.
It was not for another generation or so when this road was accidentally found. The leader gathered his followers made courageous in the knowing that someone had walked the road before. It was already built, they only need follow. So the leader led and the follower’s followed until they reached the skeleton that lay claim to this whole new world. The leader was admired and he was adored. He would go down in history as a hero, a legend for having found this haven. He would establish his own community and they would become a society as they tilled the fertile soil enriched with the blood and the tears, the sweat and the troubles of an outcast long ago that no one would ever remember.
I am not the first on the path I reconstruct, but years of neglect due to other paths of convenience promising power and wealth, glory and fame, riches and good health has left it nearly extinct. There is no longer a clear trail and its path is forboding. It is dark and it is quiet except for the eerie sounds of disturbance. There was a time when the path was lit with love and laughter and spirit, but now that light has faded from its heart overgrown and shaded. Now there are only the shadows to mourn the loss of what used to be, waiting for the outcast of the present society.
I knew as a child that I was different as I could be like no one else, no matter how hard I tried to belong. Yes, I did not choose this. It was chosen for me. I tried to conform. I tried to belong. Oh, how I tried, but it is a feat that remains unaccomplished as no matter how hard I study and observe, memorize and mimic those actions and behaviors, those perspectives and thoughts and feelings of others, I cannot remove the aura that surrounds me that betrays my effort with its evidence of my difference. It is not something you can see or smell or touch or taste. It must be something the other’s feel when I am present. They feel it. They fear it. Because it is different.
At first I followed the path that everyone is assigned to when they are born, placed in separate categories and classes based on who they are. I tirelessly went from one group to another in search of my place. Some are completely happy and content in the place at first assigned. They walk their designated pace, making sure to stay on the side and out of the way. Others are not satisfied, motivation quickens their steps. They see the glory way up top and they desire it, so they push and shove and run and race to catch up with the leaders. Beginning from the very back, the lowest on the chart, I too desired something more, something better, so I quickened my pace. My family kept me prisoner, contained in our birthright (birthwrong), but at 15 years I knotted the string that would hold us and I spread my wings.
“Why do you have to move so fast? Why are you in such a rush to live? You have so much time ahead of you. Slow down. Slow down,” my mother said.
“If I don’t go faster, I’ll never have the speed to fly. Just let me go and let me lead and I will take you with me.”
Just as a body burdened by weight will not float, my baggage would not let me fly, but I would not betray them, I could not betray them. They didn’t see the things that I saw. They didn’t see the beyond. But I would take them there and they would see, and then finally they would love me. With each new group I passed, I made another knot. Just because their gait was slow didn’t mean that they couldn’t have the glory. Birth should not determine one’s placement, not in this world of opportunity. I will take them all with me!
But the more knots I tied, the heavier the load I carried became.
I watched the others flying by, pushing and shoving and trampling like a herd of cattle. Are we beast or are we human? I questioned time and time again. I would never be like them, so selfish and so mean. I would never hurt another soul in my pursuit of freedom. I came across a fallen woman, beat and bruised and broken. She could not walk as her legs had been crushed by the aspiring politician.
I couldn’t leave her there to die, so I strapped her to my back. I picked up more fallen men and women and children and welcomed them aboard, noticing that the further I walked, the path was more littered with sprawled lifeless bodies. Though the others kicked them aside, stepped over them or upon them, I stopped at each one to check their pulse to be sure that they were dead.
Finally I reached the point where I could see the beyond I’d been seeking. Before me stood the mountain with the glory at the top. I stepped in something sticky and looked down at the ground. I shouldn’t have been surprised that it was covered in blood. The red puddle became a red stream and the red stream became a red pond, the red pond became a red lake and the red lake turned into sea. Drowning in the blood of others were the ones that drew the blood. There were screams and shouts and wails of pain as more were pushed from the mountain to descend into the flood. The only howls of laughter were from those who held a gun, shooting down their contemporaries in their twisted form of fun.
No! No! I thought distraught. This isn’t what I was seeking. Where did I go wrong? Did I take a wrong turn? I couldn’t have gone astray because I followed where the others went and we couldn’t have all lost our way.
I stood along the side of the road and pulled out my directions. I traced the line from birth to present and wound up in the same place.
Oh, to be a child again. Why does everything have to change? From hope and love and innocence, purity and peace, from happiness and joyfulness to . . . this?
And suddenly it occurred to me, I turned the map around. All along we’d been going south when north was the great beyond.
“No! Stop! Everyone, listen to me!”
“What is this about, young lady. I’m late for my destiny.”
“Yeah, stop holding up traffic. If you’re too lazy to go on, move aside!”
“No, no, you don’t understand. We’ve gotten it all wrong.”
“I don’t have the patience nor the time for this inconvenient holdup. If you don’t close that trap of yours, I’m going to shut it up.”
“We’re going the wrong way.”
“You little snot, get out of the way!”
I was pushed harshly, and I stumbled into another. This person fell and hit the next rioting the domino effect.
“You see what you’ve done? Do you see? Do you see?”
“But I didn’t do anything. That mean man pushed me.”
“Tell me stupid girl, what is your name?”
“My name? My name is Glory. I need you to listen to me.”
“Glory.”
“Her name is Glory.”
“Glory is her name.”
“Glory’s the one that hurt us.”
“Glory’s keeping us from our fame.”
“Everyone remember Glory.”
“Glory does not belong.”
“No one listen to Glory.”
“Glory is all wrong.”
“Get out of the way Glory.”
“Go back from whence you came.”
“No one cares to hear your story.”
“From here on out, Glory is to be called Shame.”
“She is to wear the scarlet letter.”
“For all eternity.”
“Cleanse yourself from having met her.”
“Glory is no longer part of destiny.”
“Do you hear yourselves? Do you hear yourselves? Do you hear what you are saying? You will not have your glory at the horrid cost you’re paying?” I said.
“We don’t want Glory.”
“We all want the same.”
“We don’t need Glory.”
“Our need is wealth and fame.”
I pled with them to listen, but they refused to hear. They just kept walking into that sea of blood, so blinded by their selfish desire that they couldn’t see beyond. All those fallen that I’d carried turned their backs on me. All the ones I’d pulled along wouldn’t even acknowledge me. I stumbled along the path telling everyone I passed to follow me. They laughed and they snickered. They degraded me. They threw sticks and they threw stones and they shattered my bones. My mother would not look at me. My father struck me and sent me away, telling me I’d brought great shame upon the family. So this is how I came to be on this path that no one follows.
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