Why don’t we own our feelings?
Why do we pull ourselves together instead of riding something out?
When did society determine it’s not the done thing to be sad, or ecstatically happy in public?
What’s with the veto on public displays of emotion?
Why do we shy away from the strange, and give a wide berth to people wailing with their own inner crazy?
Who told us we had to be so straight laced?
What is so scary about ‘different’?
Why didn’t I share my umbrella with a stranger getting drenched as he waited to cross the road? He even had a bald head. He must have been cold. Was I afraid of being strange?
Why do we contain ourselves so goddamned much?
Why do we stifle solo laughter?
We can’t be too sad (you should medicate), too happy (what are you on?), too angry (you need counselling), too human.
It’s a sadness we’ve inflicted on ourselves: we are expressive beings, and yet we repress the express.
Who’s gonna burst into song on the train tomorrow? (not me… people will stare… then what will I do?)
1 comments:
I burst into song regularly. Do I get props? :D
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