He’s quite striking at first sight, the Danny of modern society, arriving on a Harley Davidson, not giving a damn, free spirit persona and the walking maroon flag. The writing will be against the wall, but even then, you will stand on the front porch screaming: “But daddy, I love him.” Why – because they do not know what I know.
James Dean was restless, but he did fall in love. The tragedy: he never admitted it. She was Catholic and her mother did not approve. After his death, they found an Order for the Solemnization of Marriage amongst his personal belongings – her name written in pencil. Death of a hopeless romantic.
It’s the chess match between pride and commitment, the game between fear of failure and the fear of actually falling in love. If Ophelia drowned as a mad woman and Hamlet got stabbed to death, Cleopatra and Anthony both committed suicide due to a miscommunication and Romeo and Juliet…well, they also became quite useless. Maybe we are all merely players, all fools playing a part in the divine comedy. But what if he is actually a lover at heart and a romantic that got emasculated too many times to count. What if the only people he ever trusted, turned their backs or damned him to hell? What if all his letters got burned, or what if she said “eww” when he tried to kiss her? What happened to him when he was five years old?
Your perception gets blurred and you do not know what the difference is between truth and lies. What is heaven and what is hell, what is lies and what is honest and pure. Maybe it is trauma, maybe it is the “I’ve hit my head too many times,” maybe it is this thing about trust that cannot be conceptualised. Your identity gets torn apart and your heart becomes the playground for narcissists – so, you lock it up.
You will protect yourself in the best way you know how – isn’t that why they say it is survival of the fittest? To protect your selfish pride and to keep the position on the podium, you will dominate and manipulate till…
…
Until you stand alone. (But at least you will be on the podium…)
What they do not know: maybe it takes one to know one.
…She kept the persona of the “Beautiful little fool” exceptionally well, and played the cards with poise. The walking red flag wore a maroon dress that night.
- In the name of pride and self-preservation – we are all merely players love.