Character of my Own

I want a character of my own because whenever I think, speak, do, I ask: “Should I have thought, spoke, done?”

Matt always has a witty response to everything; a loaded opinion pointed in all directions and ready to fire upon anyone who approaches him and starts a conversation. He hates tomatoes, and puts ketchup on everything.

Whitney is full of giggles and likes to sing old rock songs that relate to a word just spoken in someone else’s conversation. She blushes when she hears dirty jokes.

And me… I’m an observer, a questioner, making me more like a reader of my life than anyone actually existing in it. A character must agree with some, contrast with others, and contribute to the construction of the day’s narrative.

I can try to summon some sort of character from myself, something sprung forth from sad eyes and a weary smiles… But I’m afraid that at my core, at my best, I’m just an old projector casting colorful shadows through the empty air I’m doomed to watch.

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