On Pedestals
It’s really not a surprise or a secret that there are some who are born to lead, some who learn how, and some who are chosen, hand-picked to be so. they’re an unfortunate combination of the borns and the ones who don’t really know how. well. they have to learn pretty quickly, by trial and error. perhaps they weren’t even born leaders per se, maybe just born to be outspoken (wrong place, wrong time)
So now we have hand-picked leaders-in-training. take a good look up there, kids. that pedastal is where you’ll be standing for the rest of your life. the only ways off are (a) to jump, and that’s haraam (b) to fall, and good luck if anyone ever says your name again without an “astaghfirullah” attached to it or (c) to be pushed, and that might happen if you almost but not quite made it to (b). we have to set a good example, after all.
So now, let us put our super-breeds into action. Plan this, write this, organize this, go here talk to him (lower your gaze), and whatever you do, don’t ever, ever, ever do that, because, remember, everyone is watching! Smile!
So what’s to become of us once we’ve realized what’s happened? whose expectations do we live to fulfill? Theirs? or have we already internalized those into our own? expectations. i hate those. always performing. always an actress. always the counselor. never the one who doesn’t know. never the one who forgets or doesn’t understand or doesn’t have an idea or just doesn’t want to say. never the one who’s allowed to cry. Don’t every cry.
Yes. Never. what will they say?
Bitter. yes. i guess so. thankful, of course. not to you, though…well, not only you, at least. Tu3izzal man tashaa wa tuzhillu man tashaa [3.26]. don’t role models and comparatives get a day off?
it’s not that i don’t appreciate it. i do. i’m just really tired.
unhealthy but requisite.
whose life am i living whose expectations am i fulfilling to whom am i holding myself accountable for whom do i do the things that make me who i am
so here’s my secret:
i’m afraid of heights