I've always been a rebel. Oh, not the tattooed, partying, leather jacket on a motorcycle rebel. Not the Goth or the druggie or the Emo. Not the easy ones. I'm the contrary one.
You tell me that I can't do it. You tell me that I'm unworthy. You tell me that I can't beat you. You tell me that I can't touch you. You tell me that I shouldn't even try. And something cold and bleak rises up in me, looks at you from behind my eyes, smiles grimly, and says silently, "Watch me. Just you watch me."
There's real rebellion behind that. I don't like being told no when I know I'm right. I won't stand for it. And that rebellion, that desire to make my own choices and live my life my own mistake-filled way, has pushed me to do things that I would have thought I lacked the courage for. I have danced where angels fear to tread, God help me.
Rebellion has pushed me into things I shouldn't have done. What wisdom I have has been paid for with wounds and scars. I've often wanted to be different. To be willing to go along with popular opinion on religion, civil rights, sexual freedom, environmentalism, technology, philosophy, just the sheer act of living ... why couldn't I make it easier on me? Why?
I don't know. And at this stage in my life, I'm not sure the answer matters. I have this hard core in me, the place where my morals and standards reside. It has been rocked many times, but it still stands. It refuses to bow, to change, to be easy.
There are worse ways to be. Worse ways to live. What I am, I am. I can be content with that. I will have to be. I don't how to be anyone else.