A Lonely Place

And then by a series of coincidences and circumstances you find yourself in the midst of a little, tight-knit community and you realize, it's just another club in which you really don't belong.  And maybe at another time that would have been distressing; when you were younger you may have tried to pretend to fit in, but now you know that's just a fool's game and it's not a game you want to play.


So you are the painted bird once again.  A bird of a different feather.  A bird that stands out in the crowd. This can be a good thing, especially if you are a performer.  You stand over here, and all the others are over there.  But it is also a lonely place.  And you realize that it can be a dangerous place.  There really is nowhere to hide.  There is no denying your difference.


And folks in the club don't really like different, even if they act like they do.  They shake your hand and smile, but they can't help it, your difference is a breach in the fabric of their nicely maintained bubble.  You are an example of someone who doesn't fit in the club.  That's how you define a club, by identifying those who can't/won't make it inside.


And you don't want in.  Really, you don't. And that makes your very presence dangerous to them too.