I was ready to fight or more realistically to fly

After four nights of barely any sleep and three days of staying indoors, I decided to get some sunlight and fresh air. I drove to a park which I know well and set myself up at a wooden table. I lay out some pens, a sketch book and a bottle of water and tried to feel inspired by the nature all around me.

I was enjoying the warmth of the sun on my back when I noticed a man walking down a nearby path towards the park. He had something on his head which he kept adjusting as he walked and I realised it was a bright pink bob-styled wig, the type you would buy at a costume shop or dollar store.

“This is when I die.”, I thought. It felt like such a predictable movie scene. He came closer and I tried not to stare while also keeping an eye on him. I was unusually calm as images of being murdered came into my mind. He stopped and waved at me from about twenty metres away and I waved back hoping he wouldn’t come any closer. He did. He walked right up to me, right into my radius of personal comfort and he said, “Do you like my wig?”

I realised then that he had some sort of disability or impairment and I answered him with a friendly voice, “Yes, it’s very nice.”

He was a big man who towered over me and he reached into his pocket, pulled something out and showed it to me. “I don’t want to wear this anymore!”, he sounded distressed as he crumpled up the hairnet in his hand. I assume it came with the wig. “Do you want it?”, he asked me.

“No, thank you.” I said. He started to say something else but I couldn’t understand him so I said, “Okay, well bye!” and he said goodbye and walked away.

For a while I was certain that he would come back and want to talk to me again but he wandered off down another path and for as long as I was in the park, he never returned. I thought about how judgmental I had been and how his disability made him seem both safe and scary. He may well have been capable of doing something unpredictable but no more than any other person and I guess that’s why he seemed safe. He wore his difference obviously and with pride while others keep theirs hidden deep inside.

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7 thoughts on “I was ready to fight or more realistically to fly

  1. Kinda reminds me of “Of Mice and Men”.
    Your writing is amazing.

    Sleeping. I’ve thought about that lately. And I figure that the day I’m well is the day I have a regular and good sleeping rhythm; the day when I sleep about 8 hours every night, and get up at the same time every morning. Being well would help me with my sleep, and sleeping well would help me with my being well.
    Sucks to hear you’ve been sleeping so little. Why can’t we just sleep? Why is it so easy for some people, they lay their heads on their pillows and just SLEEP. Whaat? I don’t understand.

    I must say that I think it was really well done of you to get out that day, it’s not easy, or I know that in those cases for me it’s not. It’s really a challenge, but you did it S&S, so well done!

    And sorry for my English in this comment, it was really strange.

    • I haven’t read “Of Mice and Men”, I am so uncultured! Agh sleep. It’s hard to find a balance between sleeping too much and not sleeping enough.How about those people who can just fall asleep on trains or in public spaces?! It’s like they really trust the world.
      H0w have you been?

      • I mean I used to sleep on the bus. I took the same stretch of about 1 and a half hour approximately twice a week for three years and I started sleeping on that stretch after a while. In the end I even slept through people sitting down next to me, it was crazy. I can’t sleep at night, but on a busy bus? And the worst of it, it was some of the best sleep I got in that period. What’s the worst that could happen? I get murdered: Yay, no guilt for me. I get robbed: Happy hour for the thief. I sleep through my stop: I get just another thing to worry about + I get to not live my life for a couple hours more. I must say it didn’t happen all the time, but yeah, I fell asleep more easily on that uncomfortable bus than in my bed. And about trusting the world, maybe you’re right. In comparison to how hostile I am to myself, I guess a bus driver from a small town in Norway, and the 20 passengers on the bus isn’t much to worry about.

        I have been … sigh. Unreliable. I want to be a good friend, and I want to be here for my blog-friends, but I’m just isolating all the way. It’s just not who I wanna be. But then I end up being that person. I feel like I’m broken. I told my therapist today that I felt like a vase that had been cracked in so many places and finally broken into all these small pieces, and then afterwards someone took a big hammer and broke the small pieces into sand. And how do you build anything sustainable with sand?

        I don’t mean to write a novel here, I always end up with too many words. And I’m not good with knowing whenever “How have you been?”s are sincere, and when they are polite. So maybe apologies are in order?

        What about you? Besides being checked up by strangers. 😉

      • Your buses sound much nicer/safer than the buses and trains in Sydney.Maybe you could build a sandcastle with the sand? I don’t know. I feel the same because I usually go against what I want to do or what is less comfortable for me to do and I hate that I do that but at the same time I can’t stop. I am sincere when I ask how you’re going, it’s not like when people serve you in a shop and ask how you’re going. I don’t think they really want to know. I like your novels! 🙂

      • Yeah, I could build a sandcastle with the sand. But think about that for a second! A sandcastle is like the least solid thing in the world. It could’ve been pretty, but not very sturdy.

        And hey, I’m glad you like my novels! Haha, feeling a bit embarrassed about that, but then I try to think how I feel when I get a long reply, and it’s just nice.

        It’s such a strange thing, doing the opposite of what we want and what is comfortable.

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