”I told you they could never understand you. And what they don’t understand, they fear. What they fear…”
”They seek to destroy.” Jean Grey finishes.
The volume’e turned down and there’s now a lot of talking, my favourite. I want to turn up the volume but the same thing always happens. I turn it up and for 5 seconds, everything’s great. I can hear. Then boom! Someone hits something and the entire estate knows I’m watching TV. I’ll just bear the pain of listening hard.
The movie is over, and I was right. Had I turned up the volume, I might have gone slightly deaf. It doesn’t matter though. I caught the stuff that’s important to me.
I know I don’t have powerful solar flares in me. Frankly, I’d rather not. I can relate to Jean just fine.
You could know someone for years but if you never figure them out, they’ll never be anything more than any random person whose face you can’t place in a crowd. You might recognise them but they can still be a stranger.
You’re programmed to fear strangers. When you’re a kid, you want to smile at that pretty lady on the bus. You want to take the candy she offers. You’re told, however, that the people that you don’t know will hurt you more often than not. Eventually, it’s not just the people anymore. You fear anything different. You fear the queer. You can’t figure out why the hell it doesn’t work like you do, so you try to make it familiar. When that doesn’t work, you’re convinced all it’s ever gonna be, is a stranger. All I’m ever gonna be to you is a stranger.
You don’t mean to, but it’s been programmed. I’ll hurt you first, right? So your first instinct, always, is to destroy me before I can get that chance.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, when you’re not trying, your first instinct is to run from me. And when you realise that I’m becoming a part of your life, whether or not you like it, then you’re out to get to me. All of this happens when you’re not trying to fight the narrative.
I’m a stranger but if you just got to know me, you’d realise I don’t hurt.
”Guy na.” My brother whines.
I realise I zoned out since the end credits started. I basically watched the end credits from start to finish, except, I didn’t exactly watch it.
”What?” I ask.
By the looks of it, he asked me a question – most likely more than once.
”Why’s there a teardrop on your face?” He asks.
Thats’s when I feel it. I scoff and then give him a small smile. He understands not to push anymore and proceeds to play the next movie on our list.