Stage In The Sky

I can relate to the sorrow of being Clark Kent
By Rock Kitaro
Date: August 28, 2014

It isn’t about the powers.

It isn’t about being great or better than anyone else. It’s about the isolation. Being an alien amongst a different race. It’s about being born with a gift or ability that no one else can either comprehend or choose to believe that you have. That frustration of revealing who you truly are to someone else…only for them to either doubt you, look at you like you’re weird…and worst…for them to try to change you when you’ve made peace with who you are.

The best I can do is illustrate who I am through fictional characters. If people know that a character is fictional, they’re more willing to let themselves believe in that which makes the character different from everyone else.

Whether its stubbornness or outright rebellion, there is just something in me that refuses to behave or think the way the majority says I should. I’m not able to jump on the bandwagon or ride the trends and become a stereotype…even if it helps get me what I want such as fame, fortune, or love. I just can’t. The compassion, the conscience, the moral constitution engrained within my very being won’t allow myself to cross various lines that society has gradually lowered year after year.

It’s gotten to the point where I wish I could. Just to be able to feel normal. Just to fit in with what everyone else is doing.

“You’re not the only one going through what you’re going through! Everyone feels this way sometimes.”

I say, show me. Because I can use the company. And I know they’re right. I can’t be the only one. And I have found people who at least understand what I’m going through. But they either live hundreds of miles away from me. Or they’re decades older than me. This is part of the reason why I revel in the thought of getting older. The older I get, the more normal I feel. Because I already think and prioritize like I’m in my 40s.

I’m doing my best to abandon the idea that people who can’t comprehend are stupid. But at the same time, I can’t just say that I’m different because everyone is different in one way or another. So what should I do? Should I just not waste my time trying to explain, even to my closest friends?

Because if someone were to tell me that they felt alone even though they’re surrounded by many…I’d just get it. I’d understand and sympathize with them, telling them that they’re not alone. We are a rare breed but I’d encourage them to keep on whatever path they’re traveling. I wonder if its simply a “you either get it or you don’t situation.” As a writer, this worries me. I wonder if people will be able to understand the plight of my characters whose worst adversaries are themselves.

Despite the hollow abysmal pain of walking this path alone, I hold my head up and smirk with defiant determination. I’ve come so far. And even though I’ve had help along the way, the main drive…the main person encouraging me to keep going all these years was none other than myself. No…that’s not true. God’s been by my side this whole time.