Maybe a story? I’m going to try editing this constantly and seeing what I come up with.
The Wall
Preface
There is a quote I remember reading, “Only a coward looks at a blank wall and sees nothing.” I wonder sometimes if I am the wall or if I am the watcher, if I am white or tie-die, if I am a coward or a hero.
People are never blank walls to me. People are many colors. I have one friend who’s brown with a touch of red. Another friend is a deep purple. My girlfriend is pure, omnipresent, bright-as-the-sun, yellow. I try to define people, because maybe by defining people, I can define myself.
One time I thought I was black, but then my mom asked me if I was happy, and I told her, “I don’t know always know- but there is no one else in the world I would rather be.” I cannot be black with an answer like that.
I’ve come to realize that I’m me. I’m Brian. I’m not a follower or a leader. I’m a guy. I live a life. I’m damn proud of it.
I suppose this is going to be my story. Or a story that represents my story. Or a little of both. It’s going to be a story about me but, through me, it will be about the world, for I am part of it. The world cries out for focus so I will give it my eyes.
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The junk I deleted:
That is what writing is after all, trying to come up with simple meanings when forced to contemplate a complicated reality.
I truly wonder where I fit in this world.
I wonder where anyone fits in this world.
