Life as we know it -Day 17 of the steemitschool 100 day writing challenge by @d-pend

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A child fresh from the yoke unmarked by labels is pure expression of self, until detection. By first flicker of recognition the first brand is set soon to be followed by a steady succession of others. My- daughter, son, joy, burden, loved, hated, wanted, unwanted, awaited and dreaded-progeny. Sliding from the womb this being slips right into the noose of expectation it will fight a lifetime to escape.

Lucky are those of us who are received kindly, even luckier still those that approximate the parental design. But what of those who fail societies quality control, those of us who stray from the template? We find ourselves crushed under the varying weight of disapproval and buried under the rubble of what was once labelled unconditional love.

Everyday brings a new tattoo on the skin of our reality placed by a civilisation we are forced to interact with. Some of us fall through cracks into gutters and graves, while others become caricatures of the obvious, the different to mark our rebellion. Some wear the t-shirt while others pose as mice blending into the furniture to avoid detection at all costs. They live their truths behind motes that pose as conformity and doors that they prey will never receive the red X of shame making them unclean.

If we are lucky we find other misfits to play with and maybe the odd conventional bird that finds us shiny just the way we are. Our lives run course in alternating states of happy never quite completely though. The itch we never quite escape is a world we never safely belong to, inhabited by monsters posing as members of our species. They wait in the trenches to flog us with apparent truths we discovered way before we learned calculous and are spewed as infernal vomit from almost every pew and billboard.

The oceans we sail have become kinder, most days, but the sky remains a shade of murky. We sit at the helm of the ark we have built for ourselves, we birth smiles out of rainbows and strength out of numbers crawling from closets. The choir finds its voice, sends us visions of unity in technicolour quality. Cradled in rhythm our bodies sway in tune, minds imagining a planet that is truly ours.

_{(Image credit Dave Renike and a portrait of the fair jubilee made by myself turned into this here universal truth meme)}

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_{art courtesy of @PegasusPhysics}

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