I do not belong to anyone. Barely, do I belong to myself. I give bits and pieces to everyone but never whole. Never in my entirety. Perhaps that’s an eternal flaw of what is left of the human condition. We have spent our lives adapting, growing, synchronizing like clockwork. Generations upon generations have literally worked toward getting accustomed to a specific standard of living, that our “wholes” are no longer required. Minds have evolved throughout the course of humanity, before common era even. That now, we only give what is necessary. We are measured by our ethics (work or familial), our standards, our ability to follow the rules and comprehend right from wrong. We are encouraged to not step over the line to the side of the unconventional. That is not to say that this structure is a bad thing. Can you imagine how much more chaotic it would be without it? But can we also imagine how much more free we would be? Free to love. Free to look. Free to see. Free to explore. I sound naive but I am a dreamer; if I wasn’t I wouldn’t write.
I was telling my coworkers a short story the other day. About my interactions with an attractive customer whose number I got by building up the courage and asking him. I told them that I somehow had bumped into him outside of work and managed to run up and ask for his number. They seemed so baffled, their response was “What if he would have said no? I would have been scared to get a no. You’re bold as hell.”
And mine was, “But why? A no is no. What if you get a yes?” Which I did. They called me bold but I called it human. We are so afraid to give ourselves because it is not the norm. It is not the norm to be an open book with turning pages. It is also not the norm to fail.
I speak all of this and yet; I belong to no one in my totality. I make bold moves from time to time but I never can shred my layers and just be.