Bystand

Who’s this, standing by the bleachers and doesn’t speak with anybody?
Oh, that’s just me, being myself.

I was never the loud, screaming and yelling type. I’m always by the quiet side, the polite side, the bullied one. At school I ended up watching some basic-bitch take over my highschool-crush, and now, 15 years later, I watch how the violent bullies take over everything I believe in.

The angry mob marches with burning torches towards the royal family’s house, and being among them makes me feel powerful for a while. Almost as if I have a voice of my own.
One day, we’ll have a World War III between the Good and the Bad people. Those who believe in this and those who believe in that.

Be the change you want to see, but when you do, you end up lonely. And a hell of a sucker.
I stand casually and suddenly being dragged away and almost down on the ground. A man in uniform grabs me and yells at me for standing at the wrong side of an invisible line until some strangers separate us. For a second there, I feel as if I belong with something.

So we are on the “good” side of the war, of course. We have our politically-correctness and our feminism and gay-friendliness and anti-raciness. And the others think they are the better side, with uniform and formality and order, backed up by the law they wrote themselves.

I know people are entitled for their opinions, but some opinions are not entitled to be had. And if you are pro-violence, than you are on the wrong side.
And as a matter of fact, nothing from the outside ever gets to me. I see it all from the bystander point of view, like watching a movie. All I really want is to be home with my spouse and my cat and let the others march for me. Not gonna lie, I often do.
It’s sometimes too hard for me to feel like I don’t really belong with anything.


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