Patmanmeow
2 years ago1,000+ Views
The cat in the cage
Which is better, being a dog who is excited and doesn't know what's going on around him, or a cat who is wise and quite often scares or makes others angry? It's just like one of the many philosophical questions we ask: Be part of the crowd, or be an outcast? Be happy and dumb, or smart and sad? Being disguised as a black cat, I can see why so many want to be happy, and have ordinary days, and have the ecstatic wits of knowing how to talk to people without any interpersonal or intrapersonal knowledge of that person. That and people who grab me and snuggle me saying "SO KAWAII!!" when I didn't ask them to pet me or pick me up, mew.
On a serious note, I'm the cat, or rather male human to be more blunt and accurate, who would always sit on alone contemplating everything around and carry an expression of contempt, and worry. I wear black clothes to work just like most of the coworkers around me do although they are more professional and clean, while mine are dripping with sogginess, and rough patches dried up that make the fabric feel crunchy. My station has three bars with pipes holding the counters together and I think of this place as a cage while the other employees hand me their contents they discard and walk right on by to be with the others. They help each other out serving and tipping, while I get rid of all the excess baggage. I stand there thinking about all the important features they all have. Moreover, I think about how I can never have or give what they would normally have. I've heard them talking about me and just pretend I didn't notice anything. These are topics like, "Why is he so quiet?" "Is he always this angry?" "Why is he even here?" My daily money-making questions I wish I can answer. But when I do answer, it's not what they wanted to hear or say it was modest and I should clean up my act and not be a sappy character. Then the towers of my progression to make promising interactions crumble around me. The cage at work is part of the tourist attraction, and at home, I'm safe and lost. I keep damning myself with frustration to keep this position, to make myself stronger, but then again the monotonous cohesion of my young adult life has taken a detour somewhere off course away from the dogs of society and left me in a dark corner in exile. This is my self actualization of social fulfillment. And I cannot change it. This pretty much sums up my life. I'm hip and introverted for the crowd and that makes most people amused, but when I speak my thoughts, ones that aren't the same ideological thoughts as the people around me, they think of me as the meanest son of a bitch out there. So I step away from all the crazy, boring acts of a generation filled gap with oddities of fewer intellect and more pursuit to make things stranger. I can't keep up with it. That's my anxiety. I hardly talk to anyone and rarely attend events with people because I'm afraid. There's a song by The National called "Afraid Of Everyone" and it talks about the singer's transformation of being a father, having a first child, and how the media sees it. Another is "Sorrow" and it's the building of relationships you have with others and how it's never enough to stand up for what you believe in. But I keep on doing me thing: Writing because sitting back and compiling words and ideas from a distance is the one thing I've come to accept while people out in the world go head on into the action, into the wild, into a fast moving society. While I rarely respond to people, I do listen and read their comments carefully. It sheds off the fur with a bit of light and has become a medium. I'm the feline who sits alone, sleeps away from all the bullshit in life, and leaps forth with claws and teeth, and when people understand my true position of what I've gone through to survive, I can appreciate them without being shy or agitated, and sit next to them and purr with excrescent comfort. If that's going to be my life in a nutshell, then so be it, because I'd rather have this type of life than pretend to be someone I am not. I could walk off stage and have someone take my place, but no one is careful about those who complete them.
2 comments
This is the feeling I get a lot. I have a theory that life is not made for those of us who are cursed with self awareness. But now...honestly? I'm just trying to say fuck it! Great writing.
2 years ago·Reply
I guess I've lived through it so many times, the whole thing leaves me confused and depressed. But, yeah, thanks @TessStevens
2 years ago·Reply
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