My Shadow. I bury him deep, for he is the part of me – who is not me, unwanted by society. The rebel. I however must conform—obey—and behave. Be a respected citizen. Do my duties. Subjugate my being. Anything to please other people, make them happy, though not myself. Any less would be… selfish – surely? Just like my Shadow. He is selfish.
My Shadow. The rebel. He fears no consequences, expects no reward, his fight is always for justice, striving for freedom, and to liberate the oppressed. His foes are of society and its rules, and those that enforce the rules. Those whose only power lies in the obedience of its subjects.
These are the times when I meet him the most, in my dreams. Dreams which take me to faraway lands and alien worlds, to past: long distant; and a future: uncertain. These are the times I let him be, and do his work. Whether killing, stealing, fighting—he is free to do all of these and more. These are also the times when I yearn for him to enter my life. Have I yet asked him? Or do I fear him, or he fear me?
When I wake, he sneaks off into—of course—the shadows of my mind, from whence he came, deep within my soul. He tries to hide from me, subtly attempting to influence my thoughts. Sometimes he dashes out, when I am distracted, not looking, and makes me do bad things–misbehave–dropping back into his hiding place before he is seen, leaving me to wonder what just happened and trying to mop up the mess, like a good boy should.
Yet I know he is there–I look within and can see him, in part. Like an iceberg, I am sure I see only the tip. This, he knows, and he understands that one day, I intend to face him–not just the tip–but the whole of him. I think he will come willingly and not dragging, kicking and screaming. I shall welcome him, accept him, and incorporate him into my consciousness as a friend and ally.
That I also may become a thief, killer, assassin? That I may wreak havoc on any I dislike? Shall I sneak among dark alleyways, climb rooftops at night?
No. That we may be one, as we were at birth, before behaving and conforming created an internal conflict, and my mind split, he came into being and I forced him into seclusion, wishing him away to avoid punishment.
Then, no longer shall I bend to societal will. No longer shall I sit quiet and pretend the world seeks good. No longer shall I turn my back on that which the world says should offend me, so I may not see.
I shall bring him out, and together; we shall once again be complete. Only God and I know what I shall finally become.
Jack Wolfe Frost is the Eternal Rebel; he rebels against everything which may have the word “rules” or “behave” within it, whether explicit or implicit. Born in Sheffield, UK, in 1956; he first started writing in 1982, as a hobby--dreaming that perhaps one day he might try and publish something. In his working life, he has enjoyed success in many diverse areas, including running his own company twice. Now older and wiser, he has once again taken pen to paper--looking for conformity to smash and rules to break…