Skip to main content

Scout on Opinions/ So?

So, let’s dance. Tonight, and forever, alone like the north star far in the future. You’ll follow it one day like you promised, but tonight, it isn’t that night. You will sit and stare at it tonight, hoping you are on the way to something. It’s fun to imagine an idealist reality where the theory of what is right is, and when wrong is clear enough for a child to recognize. The truth is that most adults can’t distinguish between wrong and right, and all people are a contradicting pile of opinions and actions. 

Sometimes, you let people define every part of yourself, and sometimes, you look back and realize that they also have no idea who they are. You can look into their eyes from across a room and feel like they’re the most powerful and all-knowing beings, but those gazes are far shallower than they seem. It’s apparent when they speak, but from a distance, their eyes will be on an undeserving pedestal with their soul. I made a list to make sure that no one’s opinion would sit above my own. If the answer is no to any questions, then they must be taken with a grain of salt.

1.       Did they raise me?

2.       Are they God?

The answer is usually no.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Scout on Addiction/Smarties

  Candy wrappers slathered onto wooden tables and chip bags’ potent smells wafted through the air and around the stickiness of all the junk food you could ever imagine. No child knew it then, but those chemicals kept them high. Maybe it was on sugar, possibly on one of the countless chemicals under the nutritional information listings with names none of us could read. Either way, it lifted those of us who couldn’t rely on anything else, who kept that smile plastered on our faces from eight to three. A quarter of an hour after that injection, that wrinkling of the wrappers, the crushing of the Smarties, we were free from everything.             We only needed it more the older we got, but eventually, it wasn’t strong enough; we needed something new, something stronger. A few sniffs couldn’t hurt, right? Just like those powdered Smarties, except much more expensive. I almost couldn’t feel myself after it, and all I could rememb...

What is Identity?/Ms. Jenkins

“I’m not sure.” The words echoed in my mind well after they were spoken, free from the clutter that gave weight or value to my thoughts. I hadn’t heard the question, but I knew the answer was buried somewhere, shoved in a closet with my dirty clothes, begging to be remembered. My knowledge became dormant and stiff, stinking the conscience so easily drowned by a perfect appearance. “Are you listening to me? What’s the answer?” The curved lines of a surprisingly perfect drawing connected as I glanced up at the teacher. At least a dozen people were raising their hands, but she had chosen me. After all, one silent person is more significant than a thousand laughs to a comedian. The demand for perfection and absolute attention controls even those so far in their life and careers; I can’t dare be the one to question that impartiality. What is identity? the board read. How dare she ask a question she doesn’t have the answer for? I watch her pretend to be content every class, preten...

Scout on Systems/Take Flight Part 2

  The second one was placed on my path home. The dirt road was crowded with leaves and weeds, and this time it was a bright yellow bird that was placed perfectly on its side. A piece of paper was tied around its neck. I didn’t want to read it, but I was too afraid of what could happen if I wasn’t aware of it. After all, no one fears the dark, they fear what could be in it. I pulled the string delicately away from its hollow body. The beige cutout fell into the bushes, and I scrambled to grab it. I brought it close to my face, savoring the moment of mystery. It read: One strike left. Leave your Verse . They knew I wouldn’t listen. Even as the bird’s blinding feathers shuffled through the wind and my shoes sunk in the mud, I was grounded. Even as the clouds wept for me, my eyes saw so clearly ahead. I walked through the empty trails that were so little visited as the Hands ran home to bend over and complete mundane work. I wondered; did they ever feel the dirt under them instead ...