The Sign (Experiencing Switzerland)

You see, there's this sign I seem to carry with me right above my head.. It's quite loud even though it doesn't make any noise.. It implies that I'm gay, well that's what it's supposed to say..

To some it's dirty, like it needs a good wash and it may scream punk, therefore bum, due to my dress-sense and there's an immediate effect of disrespect, into my face disrespect that could not be mistaken for anything else.. These people will hold on tight to their handbags, would not dare to sit next to me on public transport, literally stop conversation and stare when I walk past or when I enter a pub..
This merely makes me smile while I shake my head in disbelieve..

Others look at the sign and see porn; I would use another word but it describes exactly what they see.. In this case my sign seems to scream filth in a very sexual manner and this, somehow, apparently allows these people to treat me like a cheap piece of meat.. They make my ears bleed with their disgusting comments and think that they're welcome to touch as if I had invited them to.. The reactions differ from male to male and female to female.. Some just look at me as if I was the abomination of the nation..

Amongst gay people, my sign seems to look really pretty, not too loud either, just loud enough to state the obvious.. My sign seems to fit in perfectly and I don't seem to feel the weight of it, it's just floating there not bothering anyone..

And so everyone has their sign to carry and to every individual your sign looks different.. Some are scared of it, some don't get bothered by it.. Whether your sign has to do with your skin colour, sexual orientation, religion, dress-sense and so forth.. Some can hide their sign, some can't, some don't want to have to hide it..

All I know is, it's important for me to carry mine.. It's important for me TO BE and it's important for others to see.. And no matter how heavy, uncomfortable and loud it gets at times, I will carry it with pride for myself and everyone who isn't strong enough to carry their own..

The curse of the restless traveller; one is never at the same place long enough to experience things that require time..

Where have all the muses gone? (Experiencing Switzerland)

Looking to my right, looking to my left merely to discover that I'm surrounded by shallow conversations, nervous laughter, undiscovered common sense and idiotic comments that are guilty of slaying any kind of inspiration and creativity one could have..

Rolling my eyes to "opinions" so naive and uneducated it hurts.. It seems knowledge has been made an enemy and "morals" reinvented to further repress minorities..

Pushing my brain to think, search, get inspired.... But the page stays blank..

All that remains are thoughts of disappointment and disbelieve..

Could anybody tell me; where have all the muses gone???

I wasn't born to be a dancer but I danced anyway.. I wasn't born to be a writer but I wrote anyway.. I wasn't born to save the planet but I didn't listen either.. Coz at the end of the day, no one knows what we were born to do.. So until someone figures, I will do what the fuck I wanna do..

The world was here before I existed and it will still be here after I'm gone..

 Somehow I want to stop running for a while so I'd have time to do stuff average people with average lives do.. The question is; where will I run to first before I'll stop running?

WE MUST DO WHAT WE WANT TO DO... Now we just have to figure out as what it is we want...