Wednesday, June 6, 2012

The Lady That Talks To Herself

One random day in a strange city in a new state I hopped on a bus. There was no car to drive in, no friends to pick me up, and my feet were worn out from walking all over the place. Plus I was considering living in this strange city in the new state, so hopping on the bus was worth it. Right after I sat down a lady hopped on the bus and sat down behind me.

She was an older lady in her 50's. Her outfit seemed as if it had not been washed in weeks and her hair begged for a comb or brush to go through it. It was obvious she had lived a life full adventures. She also appeared to hold something up to her ear and she was talking very loudly. I tried not to stare.

However, soon after the bus started moving her hands moved away from her ear. She kept talking though. She brought up deep, thoughtful subjects, paused for answers, and then responded to no one in particular. During her conversation I heard about politics, bad ass children, and how expensive it was just to buy some food. But what she was discussing wasn't important to me. What I was curious about was how'd she get to the point where she was sitting on a bus talking to herself.

Maybe it had to do with her childhood. As kids we want to discuss every new thing that comes along in our path. Adults usually encourage us to speak up, even when they don't want to pay attention. Could she have possibly been one one those children that always spoke her mind, but then grew up and didn't know how to stop?

Or maybe she was a victim of the color of her skin. She could have possibly been one of those smart black people that went to school, finished her education, and ended up in a great job. However, she paid attention to the media, which reminds us that African Americans everywhere are messing up. She heard about the downfall of Blacks so often that she began to mess up at everything she did. Then one day she woke up, discovered she was another misfit in the Black community, and decided she was the only voice she could trust. So now she spends her days talking to herself.

But there is one other explanation.

Maybe everyone listened to her. Her parents loved her because they were her child, so they listened to her constant ramblings. The teachers in school hated to hear her talk because she never made sense, but they couldn't tell her to shut up. Someone somewhere nicely put it out there that she needed a doctor. The doctor diagnosed her with the disease "Crazy As Hell" and drugged her up. She eventually became just like everyone else. Years passed and she started feeling like a Robot. She'd wake up, eat, go to work, remind herself to eat, only speak when spoken to, and at the end of her day sleep. She was bored and the pills felt old. She needed something new in her life. She quit taking her pills and eventually started to feel good. There was no more waking up and going to work. They fired her because she continually talked and made no sense. There was no routine. She left that behind with the pills. Instead there were random moments of having strangers stare at her crazily because she would sit somewhere and have full blown conversations with herself. While they stared she became lost in a world full her discussing all the things she wanted. She was happy.

Then again maybe she is the normal one and I'm crazy for thinking about this so deeply.

No comments :

Post a Comment