Alien on Planet Earth

I wish I would have time to rewrite this.

I feel like an alien. Who has been dropped onto planet earth. Without earth’s manual.

‘If you want to be heard talk at pitch 10’. In alien world, known as AW henceforth, we talk at pitch 2. Pitch 10 is deafening. To speak in. To hear all the time.

‘If you want to fit in dress in the current styles, and dress near identical to those in your society’. Huh? Whatever happened to personal style and taste? We’re meant to be clones on PE (planet earth)? In AW we lived with diversity. There was a hodgepodge of styles and colours. People wore leaves sewn together. People wrapped strips of material around themselves. people wore black straight skirts. People wore colourful bohemian clothes. And all were one unit.

‘Don’t say what you think. Instead, skirt around what you mean and let others deduce the meaning’. In AW that would never fly. We say what we think, when we think it. In this world that’s considered tactless or being really straight – to put it politely. In AW it was the norm. There was no guesswork involved in trying to understand each other.

‘If you want to be understood, for every word you mean, say 100’. What happened to understanding English? Does not every word in the English language have inherent meaning? Are we meant to act like fools? And pretend we don’t understand all that’s implicit in what others say – that we didn’t understand the first time they implied it, what they meant, just now they’re saying it in 100 words instead of 2?

In this world there are all sorts of rules and societal norms. There is no freedom to be yourself. yet, I don’t want to fit in completely. After years learning the dance steps of PE there are still some that are too hard for me to grasp. I miss AW. There is no rocket coming to pick me up any time soon. So I’ve gotta learn how to live on PE. I try to tune into the world. I’m blinded by the brightness of the colours. Deafened by the noise. Bedazzled by everything, everywhere. Yet there’s a vibrancy, a beauty, in this world. But it’s too much. I pull up my , hide under some covers, and slowly peek out. It doesn’t make sense to stay undercover for all the years I’m on PE. So I come out. Blinded, confused, deafened.

Slowly I make some sense of PE. There are rhythms. Rhyme and reason. I can’t dance their steps though. However much I see the the moves everyone else makes, I can’t seem to dance to their tune. For they hear the music of PE. I hear the music of AW. I don’t want to rid myself of that music. I want to always remember who I am. So I try to combine the two. I try to survive in a world that’s incomprehensible. I learn their steps. Yet I dance to my music. I dance to the song I hear playing. I know that I’ll always dance to AW’s music. Yet maybe I’ll eventually learn how to dance in time to those on PE. I may never understand their rules, yet I can love the vibrancy, the beauty, the intensity, of a would pulsating with life. With dreams. With hopes. For beneath the veneer and facade, they all have thoughts, hopes, and dreams, just like those in AW. I’ll always miss AW. Yet I’ll learn to love PE (I hope).

Eliza

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