Outsiders - Draft

It was always us against the world.

We singled ourselves out of the mainstream.

We were different, and proud of it,

even though we wanted desperately to fit in.

When they chose sports, we chose art

and when they chose preppie, we chose grunge.

It wasn’t grunge then, there were a few more years before the label for that came out.

We were the living epitome of The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton, and we wanted it that way.

We wanted to be misunderstood,

too complicated for mainstream.

Posing a tragic figure was an opportunity to stand out

and also a way to blend in with the background.

No one tried to figure us out (like we were THAT complicated)

and for our part,

we didn’t want to know them either.

Our denim jackets were our shields from the outside world. 

One could see us, but they would never know us. 

Not how deep we are,

not how talented we are,

not how painful our existence is to us. 

I didn’t know it at the time, but that

angst never leaves.

It’s still there, it still whispers in my ear that I am more,

more than any of you will ever know, and there is tragedy in that.

The tragedy that will keep you from knowing me

and the missed opportunity of me

ever trying to know 

you.