The only Hypocrite is the world

 

I am Standing on the edge of everything, Wealth and poverty, decadence and Morality,  Want and need, Joy and sadness, I could go on  with antonyms to truly represent the vibrancy of my hypocrisy but I refuse to, perhaps wanting the imagery of my apathy limited to these few.  Surely I am aware that conscious minds could paint greater pictures even with nothing to work with, like how I drove on my way back from dinner past the woman under the bridge staring at me with such empty eyes, as if I had taken everything from her, I was gripped with fear of a crime I knew i did not commit 

and I spent the evening thinking of all the possible paths she walked on to that doom.  I am a passerby in the ever turning wheel of time,  and the constantly uneven grips of life,  it might be better if i had no questions to what is set in stone, but i have curious eyes as my History teacher told me one morning after a lecture on the French revolution, so i question it, I question my Purpose in an unyielding world. 

When I was 9, I knew I wanted to save the world,  I had the plans set in motion, I knew the people to meet, It was as easy as the same way I knew how fast it would be to get to that red house up the hill if only we  could all walk over roofs barely three years prior.  I had a drawing board in my head, a goal and a marker, I was Sherlock brimming with all the ideas, like Hamilton my pen unstopping, I just needed to crawl out of filth, the one I was drowned in,  it needed to be washed off for my salvation to begin. When I was 13, it got dirtier and I got fiercer,  then the teenage years left me behind , somewhere along the line i either washed away the filth or i consumed it, I do not remember how its shedding happened, what mattered now was the commencement of my Savior hood.  But I was not there yet, I was yet to attain the level of ascension I needed to embark on my crusade, i could not possibly start now when everything was not in place, I was some where in the middle, I battled with the doubts and the  questions, I watched my drawing board fall to the hands of others, Like a wronged one with no drums to beat, I wallowed, screaming my injustice to no one but the four walls that housed me. 

Do you know what the middle is?, I call it the point of no belonging, no recognition. In the traditional family structure, the first is loved and has hopes, the last is pampered and the middle- well the middle is forgotten. The Average student gets a nod, but the top place gets three nods and the last place gets multiple disappointed headshakes,  But they get a second glance, they always get more.  In life, those of us in the middle belong no where, we're dangling on the edges of ruin and glory never fully belonging in both worlds, better than those before yet far from those beyond, the wind refuses to take me for the earth has buried my feet.  I was in the middle, how could I save the world if I belonged no where in it? so i watched time pass me by, I watched stories sift through my ears, I have seen many of that woman under the bridge, Many of such forlorn eyes looking at me like they knew my vow at 9, as if they judged my cowardice. I have since my abandonment been in various middles,  standing just at the edges, denied a final push.

I am human so when I fail I must blame something, and I choose to blame the world, for being unfair, for providing contrasts and options, for stifling  hopes and parting the dreams, I look at the order with my clear lenses that fail to shield my myopia. I do not imagine that the middle is not constant, I refuse to entertain the thought that for everyone on this equation the contrasts are different, the top and the bottom are different,  where it begins for me  does not stay static for others,  my vision is not ultimate-one would expect I knew this already-   and if It was Constant, why would i not realize that the middle was safe, that it provided me ample opportunity to stare, to observe, to ponder and when need be to stretch my hands out diagonally.  Why have I refused to see what stares me right in the eye,  the fortune of not belonging was  the very path to being a savior, Perhaps if i did, I would have saved the world like i dreamed at 9, 13, and I still dream now.

"I am yet to become who I am meant to be for I am yet to leave who I was"

The connoisser.