Who am I?
I’m the trashman, unseen but always heard; the crash of plastic bins and the hiss of aging hydraulics as I crush another load and make it disappear. I’m a thickset man with a heart condition, heavy industrial gloves, a safety vest, and blue jeans. Work boots that have walked for miles.
Who am I?
I’m the scientist exploring a niche within a niche, funded by Lord-only-knows but stationed in a top-flight laboratory brimming with bleeding edge equipment. I work alone, and at night, because that’s how I believe my process works best. Truth be told, with five years of fruitless research I’m starting to question my methods.
Who am I?
I’m the housewife who never asked for it, the girl voted most likely to succeed who ended up in the back of Jeremy Jones’s dad’s Cadillac on prom night. The one who couldn’t say no, who didn’t know any better. The one who got “knocked up” and sabotaged her freedom. I’m the mother who loves her daughter very much, and I have to, because I’m loving for two. I’m the wife of the man who went off to fight in a war because he didn’t know any better either, and never came home again. I’m the heart of a broken home.
Who am I?
I’m the politician who got where he is today because he lied, and lied, and lied. But I’m a good liar, and that’s why I’m doing this instead of cleaning toilets or sweeping up after you. I am where I am because the system exists, and I tell myself that every day to stave off the guilt and emptiness I feel inside. But every day more cracks appear in the walls that I’ve built up over the years, and I can see the crushing tides of my inevitable ruin slopping over the tops.
Who am I?
I’m the artist who isn’t one, yet I’ve managed to convince everyone else otherwise. My critics are harsh and dehumanizing, but what do I care? My patrons and fans pay through the nose to acquire original pieces of my work, work that I dash off every few weeks during a bender where I barely remember putting brush to canvas. I’m a fraud, in the most literal reading of the word, and I’m A-OK with that.
Who am I?
I am everyone.
I am no one.
First draft: 150326
Published: 231017