"Lifeline"

I once said my loneliness was antecedent. Since I finished school when I was sixteen, just after being removed from my church, I felt so alone. I knew this season would last many moons. Part of me thought it would last forever. I resisted interaction as if it were a strong current, fighting against the very connection I craved. Maybe it was fear of loss that kept me hidden from joy. If I never established relationships, then what did I have to lose? Internally, I knew all I had left was myself. I was betrayed by my entire community, my friends, and the people I once called my family. There was no shoulder suitable for my tears, no hand fit to hold mine. And so I became my own comfort. 

I was left, left to the mercy of myself. After I was outed, I tore apart all that was left of me and dissected my worth to identify what pestilence made me detestable. No one knew, or maybe they did and just didn't care. If I were seen, I was overlooked. If I was looked at, I was unseen. 

Friendship became an echo. Routine became my fortitude. Time always moved on, but I never did. I made a home from my pain and became acquainted with avoidance. The decay of my color was seemingly celebrated until my pigmentation was forgotten by all. I was but a tale, a name, told beside a campfire. Even then, I felt most like an ember, seen until I was not. Alive for a moment, gone in an instant. 

It was never about putting down a diseased sheep to protect the flock. It was about slitting an artery too vital to the body, lest the body change. Eventually I learned that I must be censured for tradition to be followed. Jeremiah and Elijah said the life of a prophet was lonely, and they were right. Only I'm no prophet. Just a man who dared to be himself.