Believe it or not, sometimes, it’s not all about me.

Yes, I said it. SOMETIMES being the key word. My fellow scribes will understand when I say, the things we write about aren’t always a reflection of our own lives. I interact with more people than I can count and some of the experiences I hear about inspire me to make it about them and their experiences. With the use of cell-phones and people so matter-of-factly blurting all their business out for the entire world to hear, if it’s out there I’m using it and there’s not too much you can do about it. I don’t particularly care to hear your baby daddy, mama, job, family drama, meetings, plans. You ’bout to be’s, finnin’ to do’s or anything else but just remember. No one owns the air in between me and you. This is an excerpt from my book. A monologue I wrote and performed when trying out for play.

No one, wants to be like me.
No one.

No one wants to be a
Complicated, implicated, Miss, Ms, Mz-understood cause of erection affection. No one.

No one wants to be
Despised, disregarded, discarded – like the bed of the flightless voyager

With all my accolades, honors, glory, fame and fortune – STILL, No one wants to be like me – unless I’m HBO – Halle, Beyonce, Oprah

Like air seeping in, you allow me to blend into that melting pot – NOT meant for me

The flash of your dingy yellows and beaded lens do not blind me from the shadows of your liked pretend being

No one, wants to be like me
But ain’t it funny (ain’t it funny)
That you want me
When you had me
At the very beginning when I was paying my due
Politely placarded with your statistical demographic labels
Ring the bell, your comeuppance is served
Eat, Drink and be Merry
For the end draws near for you and your kind who wish no part of me and mine

No one wants to be like me – unless I’m that ONE on TV; M, A or B
Unless my name is heard across the waves of radio and air
Unless my skin turns within and you see you in me – Then and only then is my position regarded

He and I, we’re the same – grown from the split – your favoritism – Can you admit?
Him – you grapple around in the dark for – clinging to his every word
Me – you turn on all the lights – let the critical examination begin, shamefully, I look away and cough
As I attempt to swallow this dose of fertilized reality and face the fact that NO ONE wants to be like me

No one.

Not even me.
©2003 Thread for Mending a Broken Soul

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