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Off Beat

Chapter Text

We live in a world where, if you are the slightest bit different (whether by choice or not), you are ridiculed and outcast. So many people hide their true nature because the price for the crime of being different is too high. I have decided to metaphorically fuck society and do whatever the hell I want.

See, within a 'regular' day one will get up at a specific time, and have a specific meal to break their fast, take a specific route to a specific job, take a lunch break at a specific time along with everyone around them, and at the end of the day do the exact reversal as the beginning of the day. But that life is the bane of the working world. I refuse to get sucked into that lonely existence. Even if it means on the outside I seem even lonelier.

I get up when I'm rested, not when an alarm goes off. I eat if I'm hungry, but I just reach for whatever is closest to me, and if that means that for the first meal of my day I'm eating a steak sandwich, or leftover pasta, or Rice Krispies, then so be it. And the beginning of my day can be very still and solitary, or can be noisy and boisterous, or can be darker than anything. When I'm up, I am very up, but when I'm down, there is little that can make me happy.

I go for a walk, and I listen to the music that no one else can hear, the beat of the city, the hum of life, the technology's constant presence in the foreground of our lives, that its almost background. And I dance to that music, because that's the best thing to do when listening to music. Dance as if your life depends on it, and don't care what other people think. Dance through the streets, and in the shops, and waiting for the bus.

Other times I will sit and not move and despair at the inevitability of the ending. Of the despair that will overcome everything, and drown those who try to survive.

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I'm in a corner shop suddenly, and the music is leading me... My hand brushes against some things, and its such a good feeling, that I repeat the movement. I watch as neatly placed bottles and jugs get disturbed by my movements, and wonder what would that feel like, if they were people. Tiny people who get knocked down, without warning. What would their reactions be? Suddenly hands are grabbing me. I am yanked from the liquidity of my movements, and dragged somewhere. I am blinded when I am thrust out of the corner shop, for once it is sunny, and isn't that just another reason to be as happy as I want to be?