Why Must I Be Like This?

The state of the world has usually been bothersome. More-so for the grand scheme of things, that is. However, sitting in the booth of the favourite coffee shop, in the corner of the bar; hell, finding oneself in the upper floors of the beastly and overcrowded city library caught up in watching the lives of fellow people unfold deems everything else unworthy of the little aspects in life.

Take the mother and her three children, for example, on the way to the crafting event on the second floor. The eldest child appears to be about nine years old and begrudgingly takes their younger sibling’s hand. The middle, quite easily distracted, child seems to be no older than six, and while excited about the afternoon full of creation, gives in to the grievances of their elder sibling pulling them back in line. The youngest, no older than a few months, is cradled by the frazzled, disoriented mother whom, despite the hectic bustle of the library around her, maintains a calm demeanour and a smile for all three children. With the middle child insisting on hurrying up the pace, the eldest shushing them, and the youngest fast asleep, the mother glows with love for each one.

A homeless couple and their oversized pet rest in the afternoon summer haze against the glass wall next to the pair of double front doors. The German Shepherd moved only to take a drink from the battered plastic container of water given by the staff of the café inside.

Subtleness in each interaction between strangers, or the small intentions of caring between friends studying together make themselves known over the brashness of the world. One simply has to look for them.

Every-so-often an oddity towards daily life breaks on through the veil of the ordinary. A person who is fully themselves in every aspect, regardless of who their with. It is someone who is altruistically themselves allowing them to stand in the face of brash despondence. Dejection finds a seat next to the abject honesty of depression and anxiety, occupying the idiosyncratic tendencies of the eccentric character.

As a must, observation of the world around the unconventional takes place. To regard and scrutinise the ‘ins’ and ‘outs’ of the western society in the microcosm leads to the innate surveillance of the macrocosm.

Henceforth, what can be done in daily life? What must be done?

“Dave,” Carlyle sighed, squinting to the scruffy and unkempt person across from him, “what are you going on about?”

“Mm,” grunting in return, scratching his beard, Dave clasped his hands in the lap of his worn jeans. “Sorry, zoned out there for a second. A monologue was necessary.”

“Yeah,” Carlyle scoffed, tapping his temple, “I can read minds, remember?”

“Then I’m all the more apologetic.”

“You do have some good points though,” Carlyle encouraged.

“I sure hope so.” Dave nodded, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand and furrowed his brow.

Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, Carlyle motioned for more.

“I don’t know, man,” Dave exhaled out his nose in defeat, smacking his hands upon the soft armrests of the lime green chair. With a curt shake of his golden mess of hair, “I feel so lost half the time.”

“We all do.” Carlyle pursed his lips with a gentle nod, “But that’s ok. It happens.” Leaning back in his chair, “Most times there’s nothing that can be done. Simply riding it out is all that’s needed.”

“You could be right... like usual.”