INHERITANCE

 I would like to call it inheritance. "Call what inheritance?", you may ask. All of this. All my poems and all my songs, all my strength and all my rage. I inherited all that, you see. My parents did not buy me a bicycle when I was a child. Maybe they thought they wouldn't be around to pick me up if I fell. Or perhaps they did not care about it as well as I would've wanted them to. I inherited exactly this. An indifference. Something like this would've shattered my friends at the time, but it did nothing to me. I wasn't afraid to be seen as missing out on the whole bicycle-riding experience. I was indifferent towards it like I was, and still am to a lot of things. 

I realize that my indifference could be mistaken for neutrality. Now that, I am not. I either love things with a passion or I don't. I owe most of this to a personality disorder, but I'd rather call it heritage. My ancestors had this touch of crazy in them. They were crazy to sing love songs for the land they were made to spill their blood on. They were mad people- singing when they broke their bones and got salt on their wounds. This is what I inherited. A madness. And all those love songs.