There are reasons why at times my interactions with people seem strained. I say the wrong things. I limp through my social circles, everyone making way for my awkward presence. I bring up subjects deep and poignant. I provoke thoughts, thoughts you’re not accustomed to. I speak in a way you find odd. My accent tainted, not pure, not from any one place. The same with my mannerisms. I fidget with my hands in a crowd, unsure of how to hold them. I wonder if the way I’m standing is threatening. If a purse is left close to me, I walk away, believing you’ll accuse me if something is missing. Trying to drive with a thousand choices that are made instantly, provokes these social swerves that seem ungainly and make others uncomfortable.
Coloring my bright light with shades of never
Bringing the death of my work
Jumping off castles of white cliffs,
flapping frantically in the forest of the unknown
Bringing the death of my belief
First published in Opinionsofeye.com
That what stalks me, is a spiritual kind
All it’s attentions, frothing tongue a tell
I turned the music on today.
I let myself go
– Ismail Haniyeh
Everything I want to hear, or afraid to
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being