The Wannabe

The people, people with whom we live think you’re a wannabe. And I find it amusing and soothing because there are layers and layers of innocence in a wannabe like you. You want to learn. You want to see how it works and then work it yourself. You talk to them with faith and enthusiasm, as if you know every spoken word, every gesture, every glimpse will let you in in the place you want to be. You’re a wannabe, the best one can be to ‘be’. Once you become, you’ll need to unbecome several persons you became and you’re not afraid of the mountain-clearing you’ll need to do. But that is after you become. Now you want to. You wish to, yearn to, are all wide-eyed and chin up, shoulders alert. Where beauty is beauty and unpleasant becomes a personal choice for others, you’re trying like you know you’ll have it and become what you want to by the sheer determination and madness you, the wannabe, carry.
I’ve seen many walk out the theatre laughing and talking about the clothes, the bling, the cheer, the finesse, the talent, the greatness and the failure of the story. And I’ve seen you taking it all along with you as you walk out and think what might have gone on to make it look the way it does now. What makes such a talent, what creates such a cheer and what takes it to bring your work to such a finesse. You do the same as you watch people around you. You wannabe the good in them and while you’re at it, you don’t see the bad. You accrue no significance to it.
You are not even ashamed of what you lack. You care enough to fill the gaps and that’s the best thing in a wannabe. You’re scared, nervous. You take baby steps. You never want to lose it and almost never forget making sure you don’t. You’ll soon become. And you’ll soon cease to be a wannabe.  Ensure that you remain a wannabe by wanting to be someone better, someone greater. Wannabe, you must remain. There lies your sweetness, your greatness.
Sometimes I wake up to see you clicked about ten pictures of your happy face. We’ve laughed at you. How obsessed you are with your happiness. You also constantly want us to know how happy you’ve been. That reminds us how gloomy you’ve been in the past and never telling us. You wannabe happy. Sometimes I go see your happy faces. It makes me smile to see how innocent are those who want to be. For sheer nonchalance I want to see the good and only the good in you, wannabe. Don’t be daunted by the term.


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