Notoriety

A Letter to my Greatest Fear

Hey!

Sorry for the blunt greeting, you dirty sack of—

Let me restart. I’ve been angry at too many things in my life, and I’m not really angry at you. Truth is, we’ve never really known each other because anytime I get an inkling of you, I inch away from the crowd. Because with you, things become more complicated. You make other people expect things from us. But we are not one thing. Mark Twain was a writer yes, but he was also a father, a husband, a deeply complex man. Simone Weil broke herself to show the iniquities of industrialization, but she also had a side the world will never know.

I do not want to be known, but if I am known, let me be fully known. Let me be seen as the kaleidoscope that I am. Let my heart be felt by others. Don’t pigeon hold me as the funny one., the inspiring one, the nice guy. Someone can be all those things but be more. I have bad days. I have sad days. I have slightly mad days. I am a different creature depending on circumstance.

There’s still more to it.

Obligation. Perhaps it is because I am recovering from the extractions of another, or perhaps I spent too many years doing thankless tasks, tasks that I would do again in a second, but not everyone is worthy of the labor. I suppose that circles back to expectation, doesn’t it? Everyone expects you to be there holding the ladder for when they climb it. But the arms weaken and the body has wants. I do not want to be damned because I failed to hold the ladder for everyone. I fear you so much that I have struggled to name you throughout this correspondence.

Notoriety. Some conflate you with fame and popularity, but you’re more than that, aren’t you? You share the cradle with notorious. Has anything good ever been associated with that word? No one has ever said he was a notorious saint. But therein lies the fear. I am not known for my saintliness but I am also not known for my sinfulness. I do not want to be contained in the cell of association. Numbers climb though. They climb and climb and climb. And suddenly everyone acts like they know you.

People become familiar with you in ways that you don’t like. You find yourself linked to obligations you don’t remember agreeing to. And everyone expects you to fit the model of kindness that you’ve been told you demonstrate. I have been unkind in my life. Unkind to those that did not deserve it, unkind to those that do, and, most , unkind to myself.

Do not let me be known as a caricature of kindness or a sketch of malice.

Sincerely,

Anonymous