A Conversation to Myself

Outcasts
It pains me to say how much influence a person can have on your life.

People were shaped by surroundings as evolution determined that we would adapt to suit the life around us.

Yet resistance constructed itself as an outcast; torn from normality but born to be different. How would these individuals survive? Alienate or be alienated as social norms lured us to die down our differences and take a muted stance amongst the rest.

Most of this rarely affects us till we find ourselves in a situation where like for like rarely seems to be the case. Then what?

I've always wondered whether humans can test the concept of being social beings. We are after all considerably dispositioned to interact amongst ourselves without alternate thought.

Perhaps it is the case that we enjoy the normality of it? It becomes second nature to conduct a muted version of ourself around others and then we are trained to relish that diminished encounter.

For the last 22 years I've recognised the limitations of my ability to interact with a wide range of people. A majority of that time I spent developing my ability to understand the more niche aspects of personalities to better blend into the surroundings. Yet was it all worth it?

True; I stand now an individual with a chameleon-like ability to force a personality onto myself to better represent the company I am in, but at what cost? We try so hard to be relevant amongst others that we lose the relevance to ourselves without them.

All I've wanted was to be passionate about what others felt passionate about. It was more of an obligation to better showcase how much I cared, and hence, how much value I would add to that person's life. A bit like a selling proposal where people pitched their interests to match that of others but more sophisticated than the random draw that had been our system of selection for so long.

An errant thought that has been nagging at the back of my head for weeks to resolutely recognise as being not a problem of who I am, but rather a personified flaw that should have been noticed long ago. By very definition a majority of people would consider it an asset, but I now realise that I grow tired of the charade that is the self imposed interest onto the lives of others.

Do not get me wrong, I am by no means broken from normality. Rather I find myself more able to command a larger depth of difference when dealing with individuals who consider themselves to be more exotic in personality types. Yet the constant weight of constructed emotions begins to burden me for minor scenarios and I find myself withdrawn from individuals who I do not view as being selective priority.

Does this make me a bad person? Perhaps not. It does however make me human; at least a part of me. 

A time once forgotten - Legeriz 7

[Part 2/2]

'Some things never change', she chimed in happiness, her voice unfamiliar to the beautiful silent apartment they glided into as the lift door made its familiar 'ding' back down.

'Do you like it?', he questioned tersely, knowing the answer already, a familiar vision he'd replayed in his mind over and over ever since he foresaw it many years ago.

'It's beautiful', she spoke in awe, the moonlight now filtering in through the disappearing clouds, highlighting the penthouse in all its glory. The white engraved marble extended from the lobby into the magnificent living room. Skylights and floor length windows brightened up the muted home, as victorian pillars supported the 3 stories. She gently placed her hand on the cold Italian marble that covered the open-kitchen counter tops and looked at him, a sense of pride about her of all that her brother had accomplished since the last time she had left him.

'Bit of an upgrade', he chuckled, as his elder sister took in the awe of the place that he had come to call home. 'Just a bit', she teetered back, a game they had played in unison over the past years. 'But some things are just the same', she smiled eyeing the boxes of Chinese takeaway containers carefully placed on the carved mahogany table. He chuckled to himself, his voice echoed through the marble pillars as they sat down to eat.

'So how long are you here for this time', he asked, tensely awaiting her response. 'My client's being flown here by private jet as we speak, and I expect to have things wrapped up within a week or so', she answered, mind flashing through the millions of minute details that underlay the foundation of this case. He sighed, placing his chopsticks precariously on the half eaten box of Kung-Pao. The rain had picked up outside, and Manhattans streets were feeling the beating of mother nature.

'How's things on your end?, she asked, shifting the topic in an attempt to take his mind away from what she knew he was thinking about. 'Have you spoken to her?'

His eyes flashed silver as he glared back, like diamonds ignited as he realised the energy he was releasing and once more retained perfect composure... It had been nearly a decade since he had lost control, and he would not be starting now.