the one question that people has been asking me practically every damn day in november was.."so how old are you?" so i respond by telling the truth, "25." their reaction... people would usually burst into laughter, or would ask me again, this time reminding me to tell the truth.
what the fuck?
yes, i know, i look older... or as some of them would "politely" say... look "more mature" for my age. well, i didn't really mind their reactions. take note, i said "didn't." when it was asked three or four times... but when you are asked at the rate of three or four times a day... well, it gets annoying.
so what, i look 33, so what? my face and my posture has weathered a lot. maybe a hell lot more than most 40-year olds have endured. but i'm not all of a sudden going to try to be more conscious of my looks. i haven't for the past 25 years, why start? i'm not going to turn into something i'm not.. like them.. what's the term.. oh yeah... "metrosexuals."
jeepers! i'm into vanity as much as i'm into okra for chrissakes! besides, i'm not built that way.
and so to this i say:
"this is who i am... i'll look the way i want to look... i'll speak the way i want to speak... i'll sit, stand and walk the way i want to sit, stand and walk... because i'm comfortable... i know i'm smart... i know i'm capable.. and most of all... i am free in all the ways that you are not."
now i ask my gods to please:
"rescue me... deliver me... deliver me from being infected with the virus known as metrosexuality... deliver me from clear skin... deliver me from perfect teeth... may i never be complete... may i never be beautiful... may i never be perfect... and please... hit me as hard as you can."
i'm out.
No comments:
Post a Comment