I heard a song that made me think it was his anthem for our end. I choose them so why shouldn’t he? Anger is not mine to own. And to be honest, the song’s pretty close as far as anthems go…
I am my fury and my sorrow. I am my courage and my embarrassment. I am my solidarity and my alienation from myself… but I am still a solid human being. I am my bolshy and my blindness. I am my craving and my diet. I am my silly and my togetherness… but I am still a solid human being. I am the profit and the debt of me. I am the hunger and the overweight. I am the lover and the hater… Still, I am a solid human being.
A theory of not being truly counted was what I put on my menu for so long. And as much as I thought no one was ordering, they are. Empathy is closer than I thought and the brush off-forget happens less often than I believed. The harsh punishment of insecurity is the constant script that gets scribed in interiority. The pro is, surely, that it is better to be cooler than you think you are.
I am joyful and I hide sorrow. I am strong and yet I nest a vice. I am smart yet make the same mistakes over and over again. I am here yet disappear often. I am full of love and still I am full of anger, but I am still a solid human being. I am friendly and fond, bitchy and hard, comforting and kind, abrasive and harsh. Still, I am a solid human being.
I am uninhibited yet insecure. I am loud yet unknowingly quiet. I am sure, scared, brave and nervous and I am telling the world of my heart while scooping stories from closets into places before-unlabeled.
Walking along the fringe is a place you choose for yourself. And it is there in this descaled platoon where beauty is found in creating something out of nothing at all.
The new normal is in the realisation that you don’t need to create demons to fight with in rooms that told stories about the artist in the alone. It is when old school gets old that the path leads to a brave story like this one that I am exposed to experience now.
And so I walk… and where I go has it’s own song to sing. It might be about how we used to see forever, or now about how forever doesn’t see us. Because our future for us was one that made me realise that you incomplete me.
Still… I am my sickness and my wisdom. I am the arid and the plenty. I am begrudging and the welcoming… But I am still a solid human being. I lock the gate on my me-ness and I shout about its accessibility when I choose to. I am the concealer and the bragger, the giver and the beggar. I am the lazy and the defiant… But I am still a solid human being.
Songs are written to be lived inside of, for one and for all. For me, now, this is mine.
© Dylan Balkind