In this world

there are freaks and then

there are freaks.

 

Bet you didn’t know that

there is a ladder of freakiness

that you can either climb or descend

the bottom being

straightjackets and pills

and white beds

and darkness

the middle section belonging to nerds

and crazy people who

aren’t really crazy

but like to think that they are.

 

At the top you have people

who aren’t freaks at all—

we all know them

they are the ones who know

how not to fall

who can climb without even realizing

that they are climbing.

 

Then there are people like me

who have seen almost every level

of the damn ladder.

 

Once, I was the leader of the freaks

and we clustered around

the middle of the ladder

held down by the top

and fearing the bottom,

from which the odd snarling noises

came.

 

But we believed in our strength

and though we weren’t strong enough

to climb higher

together we felt strong

and held tight

to where we were.

 

But it could not last.

Remember how I told you

that some people ascend

while others fall closer to the bottom?

Well, my friends found the strength to climb

and I—

I chose to use my newfound energy

to descend.

 

It is a dark

scary world down there, I’ll tell you,

and I never even glimpsed the pit.

 

But so far down

so far away from the top

no one is free.

Not because we were oppressed by

the other inhabitants higher up

than us

but because we oppressed ourselves

and the emotions that best thrive down there

are fear

and hatred.

 

But even down there

I made a friend.

We took care of each other

alternately hiding each other’s eyes

from the darkness

and telling stores

to keep ourselves alive

as we clung to the ladder

never moving

and afraid of falling.

 

But no matter how well

I tried to cover my friend’s eyes

he saw the darkness

and heard the snarling below him

and the white hands reaching upward

and it broke him.

 

One day I woke up

crying

with his blood scrawled

across my cheeks, screaming

a prayer I could not answer:

 

I want to die.

I want to fall.

Let me go, so that I can know

what it is to fly if only

for a few brief moments.

I love you, Sydney.

I love you but sometimes

that isn’t enough.

 

But I couldn’t let go.

So in the end he tore himself from me

and tried to fly

by letting go of the ladder

and falling.

 

Are falling and flying opposites?

I thought so until I watched

my friend fall—

only flying could have such

a bitter beauty.

 

I watched him fall

until I couldn’t see him anymore

and then I cried

wiped my eyes

and began to climb.

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