A Manifesto

I'm just like you. I'm not you. If it seems like, than it is not. Seem does not mean similar. Seem means foreign, unidentifiable, not the same. Wrong. Off. Weird. Now only if people understood this they would see me. But they choose to see the similarity... what I seem like. I am unlike anyone. I am no one and yet, because I seem I am them in a way.

If life were about the magnetic pull we each feel to other people, than we wouldn't break those ties. I think instead we consider ourselves as centers of a gravitational pull. We think we are the center to which others gather, move towards, and desire to be. Like a cozy home, a place to find comfort. Where do you run to when you feel ill or bullied? Home. Home evolves. From scent, to voice, to place, to things, and into people. Who do you follow? Who do you worship?

See I know this about you because I am you. I fill with joy and I cry in pain. I am vain, callous, and dangerous. Just like you. I am an angel and I seek forgiveness. I am holy and powerful. I am vengeful and I will betray you. I am evil and sinister. I don't feel pain and I die from pain, depending on the weather. I am greedy and prideful and beautiful. Though shallow, you'll never know the depths of my mind. I'm open to the wild, the strange, and the safe. The excesses of life fill me with guilt and show me the light. This is not a paradox. I am not a paradox. I am a messy art piece painted by the biggest mover and shaker. Still and calm, I hear nothing. The truth of it is that I soothe my woes and torture my reflection. So, you see. I don't seem strange. I am strange, and I'm not strange. I am you.

The truth I tell you was revealed to me, shown to me, and it is a gift the tortures me.

R