The sun’s down again. It usually is. That’s when you choose to live.
Sometimes, and by that, I mean all of the time, you live by thinking. Your mind lives vicariously through your body. The problem is that nobody else sees it. You’re alone tonight,.. thinking about how cool you are. Your coolness quotient is greater than a beatnik chilling in his resident cafe, right side of his lips clamping onto a burning cigarette, smoke fading away into molecular obscurity, conveying his caution-to-the-wind-transient-life-like-smoke-don’t-give-a-damn outlook on life, yet still not quite cool enough to surpass the James Dean and something to lean on combination; a small difference, yet still a vast chasm to be caught in. That’s ok though, you have more than enough traits to make up for the small shortfalls in coolness; sharp as a bloodthirsty tack, just lying in wait on the ground for an unsuspecting toe, you’re smart. You’re wittier than a sock puppet, but you don’t put much stock in wit–wit gets annoying. That wit does translate into what could only be called a superior sense of humor, yet your sophistication often holds it back. Yeah, glue it all together, you’re medieval. You’re a knight. You’re decked in the most elaborate armor; platemail breastplate and leggings, heaume with the red feathers of a phoenix on top, concealing your identity, yet cultivating your reputation. Nobody wants to see your figure propped up on steed, growing into view on the horizon. You’re who everyone needs to watch out for, but nobody else sees you.
You used to feel overshadowed by your friends, until you realized you are overshadowed by your friends. Together, you’re like a fun house, except they replaced the mirrors with normal ones, so they look all proper and beautiful, while next to that you just look slightly amiss. Not completely wrong, but you don’t stack up. You don’t make much of it, because no matter that, when you are with your friends you feel like the biggest man in the room, or at least the one most worthy of an ego, maybe that’s even true, you wouldn’t know, nor would I. This doesn’t make you any less overshadowed though, and that just feeds the envy, and envy is a gluttonous pig, or maybe just an American.
You envy women. They don’t have to do anything but stay girls, while for you to be on the radar you have to accomplish something. As soon as you’re not accomplishing anything, you’re disappearing. You’re invisible for now, its too much work, accomplishing stuff. You wonder how that is fair, “I have to make the world turn. All she has to do is let everyone see her at a good angle,” you’re scoffing again just thinking about it. If anything really mattered, they should be lining up to petty your coat, whatever that means. Instead, the laymen line up as if Steve Jobs himself declared her, “magical,” taking turns at her, like a balloon, huffing and puffing every pleasantry and desperate attempt they can, hoping that their contribution will transform them into laid men, or at least noticed. Apparently, that’s an existence validated. You take every approach you can come up with, yet you always fail to see their contribution. You just failed again.
“Screw this,” you think. So instead of putting in the work, you do nothing. Perhaps you prefer obscurity over injustice, there go those values again. You have them.
They don’t get you much.
The sun still isn’t out, so there really isn’t much to illuminate yourself. That’s that, nobody else sees you, nobody else recognizes you, but at least you know.