Looking Backward
I've been a lot of things.
I've been a baby. Screaming, naked, and thrown out into the world. Empty, open, fresh and full of possibility.
I've been a child. Eager, excited, full of life and dreams and overactive imaginings. Full of hope, and crazy ideas, and shamelessness. Still believing in God, and magic, and that the world is a good and fair place full of good and fair people. Believing that any of life's evils could be thwarted with enough Legos, Looney Toons, or Sonic the Hedgehog.
I've been the awkward kid at school. The one who doesn't quite "get it" as quickly as the wittier kids. The one who got used to talking to adults too well, and just seemed stupid to other kids because the things I said didn't make sense. The one whose shamelessness leads to being shamed. The one who talks just a few seconds before he thinks, and gets beaten up for it.
I've been the outcast. I'm the one you made fun of to impress those friends of yours who needed impressing. The one picked last, because my physical prowess wasn't quite as honed as the others. The one called "weirdo", and "sissy", which eventually became "freak" and "faggot". The one you catcalled down the hallways of Pine Glen, and Francis Wyman, and Marshall Simonds, and Shawsheen. The one that, every day, relentlessly, you gave a reason to doubt himself, right up to the all night graduation party in which you told me how much you'd miss me. And then you were taken aback when I laughed in your face and told you "You never said a kind word to me since you met me, I think you'll be fine when I'm gone."
I've been a lackey. The one on the peripheral of the group. The kid you beat up to prove your worth to your relevant social kingpin. The one that would have done anything, anything at all, for you to consider him cool. And because of my willingness, I'd be that much less cool to you. My desperation for your acceptance was a tool you used to break my back every day, and still, there I was, propping up your ego and doing your dirty work. Helping you cheat on tests, laughing at your jokes which I'd eventually realize were inane, stupid babblings with no meaning. Laughing along with you when you made my knuckles bloody in games of quarters at lunch, and laughing at how awful I was at the game, instead of crying because of how sore my hands were from your relentlessness.
I've been the loner. Invisible. The one you didn't notice, either by deliberate choice, social circumstance, or unconscious habit. The one you talked to differently in front of your friends, for fear that they'd think that for even a second you'd consider me an acceptable interaction. The one who sat by himself in class, and at lunch, and on the bus, for so long that what started as rejection became daily habit. The one whose face would light up at a chance to interact with you, and would fall when the things I'd confide were instantly turned against me for your social gain. I never understood why you did this to me.
I've been the hopeless lover. That fool of a boy who needed so desperately to fill the hole left by others that I'd utterly ignore every last flaw you had, and see you as perfect, just for the chance to be by your side, to have you as that one person I knew wouldn't betray me. I've fallen hopelessly in love so many times with the wrong person. The one who could wear her eyeliner, her interesting haircut and her concealer, and her mall goth clothes just a little bit better than anyone else. The skinny, pale, cat-eyed girl who was into all the cool things I knew I shouldn't be into, like dyed hair and weird books and Marilyn Manson and not giving a fuck what people think. The one who convinced me that all of my friends and everyone I knew was out to get me, and spun my head around to the point that I didn't quite recover. The one who helped me come to terms with a foolish obsession in the harshest way she could. The ones who had their boyfriends beat me up and threaten me. The ones who went from good friend to callous hostile in a heartbeat. The one who made me feel invincible for a week, and then vanished on a bus that I still hate. The ones who took my trust and stomped on it. The one I caught myself on before I fell again, and withheld, and found a lasting friendship with. The ones that, if I had been looking at things more clearly, I would've maybe been smarter about wasting our time and just left you alone. You've all taught me something.
I've been the friend you depended on. You confided in me, and I confided in you. You cultivated my dreams, and I cultivated yours. You shot my dreams down, and I shot down yours. You cried to me, and told me secrets, and came to me for advice. You came to rely on me when the world turned on you, and I relied on you for the same. I told you my thoughts, and my hopes, and my ideas, and I listened for your opinion to validate them. You propped me up with your approval, and you gave me something to hold onto. And yet, each time, my flaws have come out and overwhelmed things. I've been insensitive, and stupid, and disagreeable, and mocking, and a myriad of other things I shouldn't have been to you. And you, you sold me out for social capital when it suited you. You held my faults against me until they hit your threshhold, and then you crushed me and never forgave. But I remember all of you. I remember the laughter, and the tears, and the arguments. I remember dressing in space marine armor made from hockey pads, and army camouflage, and drag with you. I remember riding bikes with you, playing hockey, playing video games, reading comics, hanging out at the mall with you. I remember sleepovers, and lan parties, and drunken Rock Band at 3 in the morning (okay, I remember blacking out while doing that last one). I remember how we used to feel, and I miss it tremendously. I want it back, all of it. I want all of us together again, having fun, like things are supposed to be.
I've been the artist. I've drawn, colored, painted, charcoaled, designed, coded, 3D modeled, vectored, rigged, animated, edited, filmed, photographed, scripted, written, sequenced, recorded, composed, played, and performed. All other forms of self expression have been marginalized for me save for art. I can't express myself by communicating, reliably anyway, because I will be challenged or denounced. But if I write a song, it can't be un-sung by others. I've gone through so many iterations of artistic attempts, and I'm down to the last one that I feel any sort of proficiency in; music. I used to draw, now I don't. I used to write, now my writing is essentially reduced to what you're reading now. I used to animate in many different ways, now I don't. Maybe someday I'll be able to legitimately return to some of my prior crafts, but as I've gotten older, there's been less and less time for them. Music is my final stronghold, the hill on which I'm making my last stand in a war of self, waged against being a marginalized nine-to-five ant person.
I've been Slash, and Sypher, and Soren, and Shakkel, and a multitude of other false faces and new identities I've created over the years to roleplay as someone else. Even now, I assume the name Mark Zero in an attempt to kill the past that I hate, and redefine myself as someone new.
Someday, I will be dead. I guess if I died today, my wishes would be to be buried in the earth and have a tree planted above me, so that as I rotted a tree would grow and nourish itself from the matter and energy I return to the soil. Yeah, that's right, my final ambition is to be plant food. That and a hope that my consciousness persists in some elevated form, and that I can be at peace with myself then.
But until then, really, who am I?
What will I become?
And is it possible for me to become something I can finally be proud of?
I've been a baby. Screaming, naked, and thrown out into the world. Empty, open, fresh and full of possibility.
I've been a child. Eager, excited, full of life and dreams and overactive imaginings. Full of hope, and crazy ideas, and shamelessness. Still believing in God, and magic, and that the world is a good and fair place full of good and fair people. Believing that any of life's evils could be thwarted with enough Legos, Looney Toons, or Sonic the Hedgehog.
I've been the awkward kid at school. The one who doesn't quite "get it" as quickly as the wittier kids. The one who got used to talking to adults too well, and just seemed stupid to other kids because the things I said didn't make sense. The one whose shamelessness leads to being shamed. The one who talks just a few seconds before he thinks, and gets beaten up for it.
I've been the outcast. I'm the one you made fun of to impress those friends of yours who needed impressing. The one picked last, because my physical prowess wasn't quite as honed as the others. The one called "weirdo", and "sissy", which eventually became "freak" and "faggot". The one you catcalled down the hallways of Pine Glen, and Francis Wyman, and Marshall Simonds, and Shawsheen. The one that, every day, relentlessly, you gave a reason to doubt himself, right up to the all night graduation party in which you told me how much you'd miss me. And then you were taken aback when I laughed in your face and told you "You never said a kind word to me since you met me, I think you'll be fine when I'm gone."
I've been a lackey. The one on the peripheral of the group. The kid you beat up to prove your worth to your relevant social kingpin. The one that would have done anything, anything at all, for you to consider him cool. And because of my willingness, I'd be that much less cool to you. My desperation for your acceptance was a tool you used to break my back every day, and still, there I was, propping up your ego and doing your dirty work. Helping you cheat on tests, laughing at your jokes which I'd eventually realize were inane, stupid babblings with no meaning. Laughing along with you when you made my knuckles bloody in games of quarters at lunch, and laughing at how awful I was at the game, instead of crying because of how sore my hands were from your relentlessness.
I've been the loner. Invisible. The one you didn't notice, either by deliberate choice, social circumstance, or unconscious habit. The one you talked to differently in front of your friends, for fear that they'd think that for even a second you'd consider me an acceptable interaction. The one who sat by himself in class, and at lunch, and on the bus, for so long that what started as rejection became daily habit. The one whose face would light up at a chance to interact with you, and would fall when the things I'd confide were instantly turned against me for your social gain. I never understood why you did this to me.
I've been the hopeless lover. That fool of a boy who needed so desperately to fill the hole left by others that I'd utterly ignore every last flaw you had, and see you as perfect, just for the chance to be by your side, to have you as that one person I knew wouldn't betray me. I've fallen hopelessly in love so many times with the wrong person. The one who could wear her eyeliner, her interesting haircut and her concealer, and her mall goth clothes just a little bit better than anyone else. The skinny, pale, cat-eyed girl who was into all the cool things I knew I shouldn't be into, like dyed hair and weird books and Marilyn Manson and not giving a fuck what people think. The one who convinced me that all of my friends and everyone I knew was out to get me, and spun my head around to the point that I didn't quite recover. The one who helped me come to terms with a foolish obsession in the harshest way she could. The ones who had their boyfriends beat me up and threaten me. The ones who went from good friend to callous hostile in a heartbeat. The one who made me feel invincible for a week, and then vanished on a bus that I still hate. The ones who took my trust and stomped on it. The one I caught myself on before I fell again, and withheld, and found a lasting friendship with. The ones that, if I had been looking at things more clearly, I would've maybe been smarter about wasting our time and just left you alone. You've all taught me something.
I've been the friend you depended on. You confided in me, and I confided in you. You cultivated my dreams, and I cultivated yours. You shot my dreams down, and I shot down yours. You cried to me, and told me secrets, and came to me for advice. You came to rely on me when the world turned on you, and I relied on you for the same. I told you my thoughts, and my hopes, and my ideas, and I listened for your opinion to validate them. You propped me up with your approval, and you gave me something to hold onto. And yet, each time, my flaws have come out and overwhelmed things. I've been insensitive, and stupid, and disagreeable, and mocking, and a myriad of other things I shouldn't have been to you. And you, you sold me out for social capital when it suited you. You held my faults against me until they hit your threshhold, and then you crushed me and never forgave. But I remember all of you. I remember the laughter, and the tears, and the arguments. I remember dressing in space marine armor made from hockey pads, and army camouflage, and drag with you. I remember riding bikes with you, playing hockey, playing video games, reading comics, hanging out at the mall with you. I remember sleepovers, and lan parties, and drunken Rock Band at 3 in the morning (okay, I remember blacking out while doing that last one). I remember how we used to feel, and I miss it tremendously. I want it back, all of it. I want all of us together again, having fun, like things are supposed to be.
I've been the artist. I've drawn, colored, painted, charcoaled, designed, coded, 3D modeled, vectored, rigged, animated, edited, filmed, photographed, scripted, written, sequenced, recorded, composed, played, and performed. All other forms of self expression have been marginalized for me save for art. I can't express myself by communicating, reliably anyway, because I will be challenged or denounced. But if I write a song, it can't be un-sung by others. I've gone through so many iterations of artistic attempts, and I'm down to the last one that I feel any sort of proficiency in; music. I used to draw, now I don't. I used to write, now my writing is essentially reduced to what you're reading now. I used to animate in many different ways, now I don't. Maybe someday I'll be able to legitimately return to some of my prior crafts, but as I've gotten older, there's been less and less time for them. Music is my final stronghold, the hill on which I'm making my last stand in a war of self, waged against being a marginalized nine-to-five ant person.
I've been Slash, and Sypher, and Soren, and Shakkel, and a multitude of other false faces and new identities I've created over the years to roleplay as someone else. Even now, I assume the name Mark Zero in an attempt to kill the past that I hate, and redefine myself as someone new.
Someday, I will be dead. I guess if I died today, my wishes would be to be buried in the earth and have a tree planted above me, so that as I rotted a tree would grow and nourish itself from the matter and energy I return to the soil. Yeah, that's right, my final ambition is to be plant food. That and a hope that my consciousness persists in some elevated form, and that I can be at peace with myself then.
But until then, really, who am I?
What will I become?
And is it possible for me to become something I can finally be proud of?