Control, Escape and Delete…

At the risk of sounding like an overused cliché, I’ve worn out a lot of good shoes marching to the beat of my own drum, and if I had it all to do over again, I’d just buy a better pair of shoes.

When I was in grade school, I was quick to learn, easy to rile and hard to beat, so I became the unwitting measuring stick for audacity, since I was bigger, taller and stronger than most of the kids my age. Because of that, I polished more seats in the principal’s office than most bottoms ever kiss, but I marched to the beat of my own drum, so they followed and they bullied…

When I was in high school, I was acneically challenged, more than just a bit pudgy, but I wrote poetry, played the guitar and sang like a bird with its tail in a mousetrap. I was from a lower class background, but I was raised in a middle-class neighbourhood, and was headed for an upper-class future, so they followed, and they bullied…

As a young man, I learned to push back, so I pushed as hard as I got; opening doors to opportunities most of THEM couldn’t see, and it worked out quite well, so they followed, and they bullied…

I flirted with business, made money and touched lives, some of which I saved, and still, they followed and they bullied…

Now the autumn of my years unwound to reveal the winter of my fears, and in the midst of it all, the words repeated themselves over and over again…

CONTROL, ESCAPE and DELETE…

I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum, and if I had it to do all over again, I’d just buy a better pair of shoes.

 

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