What about all the times you said you had the answers?
What about us?
What about all the broken happy ever after’s?
What about us?
What about all the plans that ended in disaster?
What about love? What about trust?
What about us?
-P!nk (What about us?)
Misfits.
We don’t belong here.
The world exists in a different frequency than ours and our hearts beat at a different speed.
Exhilaration becomes excitement.
Excitement becomes longing.
Longing becomes doubt.
The devil danced in the pale moonlight with wings that burned a startling white.
Blinding, and yet, beautiful, all in the same breath.
And we breathed it in as though it were life.
A life that cringed away from us.
Around us.
Avoiding us.
We are misfits.
And we are everywhere.
Her glasses fogged up as she sat on the edge of the snow covered cliff, her smoky breath sticking to the lens as she dug her hands further into her sweater pockets in order to keep out the numbing cold.
The air was cool to the touch, rosy cheeks peeking out beneath a rather oversized hood as she blew out another wisp of breath, watching as it crept up in front of her face and then drifted up into nothing.
You rolled the dice and it landed on a number that wasn’t your own.
It doesn’t matter where you stand.
The popular one, the loner, the quiet one, the bookworm, or just the plain fun-loving weirdo,
Amongst a crowd of a thousand and two eyes, yours are the ones cast away in another dimension.
You don’t wander in the recesses of your mind because you have the ability to think.
Anyone can think.
Everyone can reason and ponder.
No.
What you have is the ability to dream.
She was alone, yet, she was content.
The icy world around her was in a league of its own.
Four elegant beasts covered in tufts of white hovered under the cliff as she swung her legs back and forth.
The wolves howled from below and she laughed.
A full- fledged laugh that held back none of her heart.
This is what she lived for.
The exhilaration.
The excitement.
She howled as loud as she could, the wolves answering her cry with a whine of their own.
A mind that never remains silent.
One that keeps the images vivid and the white shrouded in flecks of color.
Hues that fill your surroundings with a world only seen through a misfits eyes.
A world where even the smallest of details are taken into consideration.
Because that is what you do.
You observe.
In the dark.
In the silence.
Though your mind whirs a mile a minute, focus is something that comes naturally to you because you’ve learned how to breathe through your eyes.
She’d lived, she’d lost and she’d learned.
And yet, no matter what she’d been through,
However many times she’d been hurt, and lied to, and betrayed,
She just kept coming back for more.
Because what was life without the pain, the loss, the worry?
She had to suffer to realize the relief.
She had to cry to remember how to smile.
She had to belong to know how it felt to be different.
And she was different,
She was a misfit, and she was proud of it.
The world lied.
He said that life was going to be perfect.
But you knew that perfection didn’t truly exist, didn’t you?
Everyone is a misfit.
Everyone doesn’t belong sometimes.
Somewhere along the path of discovery, we strayed.
We walked off into the abyss of darkness, only to be greeted by light.
Her voice didn’t need to be heard.
Instead, her lips were used to smile and her eyes were used to see.
The world is beautiful to those of us who are actually looking, after all.
‘We are problems that want to be solved,
We are children that need to be loved,
We were willing, we came when you called,
But you fooled us, enough is enough.’
Embrace the moment you realize you’ve succumbed to your surroundings and are observing instead of speaking.
Because, it is in that moment that you have truly become a misfit.
Why call it a misfit, though?
At the end of the day, you fit right in with the rest of us, don’t you?
No comments:
Post a Comment