Listening to: Brian McFadden ft. Kevin Rudolf - Just Say So.
Inadequate.
They said I was perfect.
Apparently I’m not anymore.
“Why?!” They ask. “Why would you do this to yourself?”
Why indeed.
Their mouths move in a motion unexplainable; their expressions twisted with rage.. disappointment.. disgust.. and a hint of confusion.
I see lips moving, and I know I’m meant to be listening but all I hear is this steady droning sound. Something about how I’ve disgraced my reputation and that I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. The same speech that I’ve heard a thousand times before has already imbedded itself into the lobes of my brain. Hummmmmmmm. It’s like my ears have already numbed themselves to their voices.
Today, though, they appear just that little bit more livid. ‘Defiled’ is a new word that seems to be coming up often, I notice.
All this fuss over a little ink and a few bits of metal.
“Look at you! Look at what you’ve become!”
The shrill voices are echoing around my head.
“Do you even know what kind of shit’s being leaked over the internet? There’s photos of you smoking, drinking, getting stoned, getting into fights and sticking your tongue into whatever you can find!”
“What kind of example is this? There are millions of people who look up to you, know that?”
“Why can’t you be normal like the rest of the boys?”
Ha.
You know more than anyone that I’m not normal.
Nor can I be generalized in this category you call ‘the rest’.
Unique. That’s what you said I was when we first met. You said that I stood out. You said that I was exactly what you were looking for. You said I was it.
You fucking liar.
“We gave this to you. And we can take it away.”
“Don’t push us, boy.”
I laugh at the irony.
A man already in free fall can’t push another.
“You think this is funny?”
I open my mouth and without a single regret, pronounce: “Hilarious.”
“Little piece of shit!”
An arm is raised.
Smirking, I take a step forward.
“Hit me. I dare you.”
The look in his eye says it all. He wants to beat the living crap out of me, but he knows he can’t. Everyone knows you can’t make a profit from a damaged good.
And that’s all I am to them.
A defective product.
I’m not satisfactory any more. I’m not perfect. I’m..
Inadequate.
All they have left for me are questions. Why am I doing this? Why do I cause so much trouble? Why can’t I be like everyone else?
Here’s a question I’d like to ask:
What the fuck am I still doing here?
I chuckle to myself while silently shaking my head. There isn’t one reason I need to stay for. So, I set my eyes on the door and like a puppet with its strings freshly cut off, I feel a newfound sense of freedom coursing through my veins. I walk.
“Wait! Where are you going now?”
Without looking back, I shrug my shoulders. “Not sure.”
“Come back here right now!”
Their words blow right past me and I know for sure I’ve made the right decision. After all, the guy at the parlour did say, ‘You are only young once.’
“IF YOU LEAVE NOW, YOU CAN NEVER COME BACK!”
As I’m about to exit, I turn my head, grin and say, “If you say so.”
“What? WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GIVING UP HERE?”
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
I’m not entirely sure.
But when you do figure it out, be sure to let me know.
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Behind the Story
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