The lines. Within, without and outside.
Do you remember when you were a kid? Do you remember those drawings that you were supposed to color? It was princesses and knights, kitties or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They were great for training your motor skills and your little brain in general. Eyes to hand coordination, the names of the colors and pure patience were all beneficial gains. With time you got really good at drawing within the lines. Your older brother made you realize that Leonardo wasn’t supposed to be brown and that the knight’s armor couldn’t be pink because that was a girl color. You didn’t want to be a little girl, did you?
You had that great feeling of accomplishment once you finished one. The grown-ups gave you compliments and the world was in perfect order, because you drew so nicely within the lines. Within the lines… Doing as you were told, using knife and fork, eating your vegetables, washing your hands. I guess you got bored after a while.
Suddenly you thought ‘fuck the rules and fuck those lines! I won’t conform to this shit! You can’t tell what to do!’ You didn’t need no lines anymore did you? You were all over the place, adding whatever color or shape you wanted, following no rules. You made a beautiful mess. No one understood and that was the best part. It was your own universe, your own creation and no one else was let in. Nothing stood in your way. You were the ruler of your own universe, a genius, a God! You spent a lifetime inside your own head, ruled by you and by you only.
Eventually you backed up a bit to look at your work and what you saw was… Crap. Worse than a piece of shit. It was a whole shit. A senseless pile of debris. You were finally done and you had already grown out of that nonsense. A million years creating a universe and now you had nothing to show for it. You looked around and you saw all the others once again. They looked pretty. Nice colors, tidily placed within beautifully drawn lines. Order ruled the world outside. You wanted to join again. With your face hidden in humility you rejoined the flock, sat down by the table and started to draw, this time again with the help of those lines you’ve tried to escape for so long. Your choice in color and shade was exquisite. Once again the crowd was pleased and the land at peace.
But you couldn’t really help yourself could you now? Yes, you started off just fine, but once again the lines had that claustrophobic effect on you. You felt how you eyes and hands were forced down a way to narrow path. Suddenly you slipped. You slipped with your hand and the crayon touched the surface outside the line. You slipped and it felt good. Once again the lines were your enemy, but this time you didn’t run. You stayed and you dared to challenge them. You came to realize something.
You needed this. You needed enemies. You required battle. You lived by conflict. This is where you found yourself at last.
Challenge me! Make rules! Draw lines in the sand for me to cross! I’ve drawn along your lines and I’ve tried to flee them. Now i’m standing here, right in front of you and I’ve found home drawing on the outside, making new lines and you’re forced to follow. The second you think you’ve got the hang of it I’m already miles ahead, making new rules and new lines. I don’t need to run off creating my own little universe. I have claimed this one and I choose to rejoice with the rebels. You see us up on the hill and you think we’re in your way when in reality we’re leading you.
We’re the ones drawing outside of the lines. Who are you?