Butt Thoughts

It is hard to be set on a pedestal. I feel exposed. My every action analyzed: where I sit, where I stand, my tone, any word that passes my lips. Each choice carefully weighed. A cheeky response interpreted as bullying from a position of privilege. It makes me clench before reading the headlines, dreading what rumpus I might cause next. It is exhausting, everyone looking up to me, following tightly behind. What causes me to sag are those who claim I did not earn my accomplishments, but that they were purchased, fake. What implanted that thought in their head? In fact, these are the product of long labor, tense resolve, flexibility, and courageous steel. What they see is carefully sculpted by the fires of adversity. I suppose what matters is that I know this, but in hindsight, maybe the ambition which ripped me from obscurity was mere vanity.

It is harsh down here. I feel invisible. No one sees my hard work, week in, week out. There are days I feel I may crack. My only desire is a place to lay my head and enough buns to sustain me. I am thankful for this much, as some have none. But sometimes I look up at those so high in the clouds and wonder, am I deserving of a little cushion, a little padding from this boney existence? Sometimes I think they flaunt their meaty abundance simply to remind me what I lack. I am tempted to grab a handful for myself. Though they ripple with excess, they do not stop to consider those with less. Forget me, what of those wiped into the gutter? I quiver in anger at the thoughtlessness. Were not some of them once down here with us? Have they forgotten how strenuous it is under the moon? I fear it is time for us to assemble, and remind the thick ones we are here and will not be forgotten.