The Outsider

MONOLOGUE

"When people see good, they expect good, and I don't want to live up to anyone's expectations." A lot of you probably know this quote, and so do I. It resonated with me immediately. Why? Because, like most people, I don't always know what to expect, not just from myself, but from the world around me. Especially when you're giving your all, working hard, striving for something more, yet still, somehow, it's never enough. The ones with the big names, the power, they seem to float effortlessly to the top, leaving the rest of us swimming upstream, hoping just to stay afloat. It's almost like there's this invisible hierarchy, some modern-day monarchy. But it's not the fairy-tale kind. No, it's more like a monarchy that operates in the shadows, controlling everything. And here's the kicker, it doesn't reward effort or talent; it feeds on something else entirely.

I've tried to escape it. Who hasn't? We all have our distractions in movies, shows, books, sports, you name it. For a while, they work. You lose yourself in someone else's narrative, in their struggles and triumphs. It's like you can breathe easier, even if just for a moment. But eventually, the illusion wears off, and you're left feeling like a ghost, an observer in someone else's life. I would watch these characters as if I were invisible, a silent presence behind the fourth wall, witnessing it all without truly participating. And that's when it hit me, they're all just puppets. Every last one of them. Their strings are pulled by parents, governments, societal norms, and even by love sometimes the most dangerous puppeteer of all.

And where does that leave me? Am I any different? No, I'm not. I'm no better, no more in control than anyone else. But here's where I might have a slight edge: I've found my outlet. I can talk about it. Maybe I can't change anything, but I can write it down, and give it voice. That's something, right? They say literature is the most powerful weapon in history. Words have the power to inspire revolutions, tear down walls, and build bridges. Isn't that what they mean when they say the pen is mightier than the sword? It's a nice thought. But is it true? Or is it just another comforting lie we tell ourselves to make the battle seem less hopeless?

I know I might sound bitter. Maybe I am. Maybe I've seen too much, thought too much, felt too much, and now I'm left with this raw, unfiltered version of the world that doesn't match the glossy pictures we're all fed from childhood. I'm sure some of you are thinking, "This isn't literature. This isn't art." But what if it's more real than the so-called masterpieces? What if it's closer to the truth?

I don't have all the answers. I'm not claiming to be some kind of oracle. All I can offer is this: my story, from my own outside perspective. Take it or leave it, but at least it's mine. At least I'm no longer invisible, even if it's just for a moment.