What the Monkey Said - Essay

     You know, if I could have spoken at the moment I was born, I think I would have told the world to shut-up and leave me alone.  No, no I wouldn't, I'm not that cynical.  Yet I know there are some people who wouldn't agree with that.  People say I come across mean and intimidating.  But So What.  What do those people know about me anyway?  It's not like I was born this way.  At one time I was very trusting and idealistic.  But, of course all that changes over time.  How'd it happen?  I don't know, little things adding up I guess.

     I blame it on my time spent in the service now.  But, that's not where it started.  No, it began years ago.  You see I'm dyslexic.  Not like everyone else today, but a real one.  I'm only saying this because it seems to be the learning disability of choice today.  Dyslexia the disability for the masses.  Everybody has to have it.  It has even made its way into TV sitcom families.  Starting with that stupid Cosby kid, and has since blossomed into the miracle answer for every sitcom brat.  It's a wonderful disability to have.  If you're on TV.  See first you start failing school.  Then some wonderful doctor tells you, you have dyslexia.  Of course you deny it at first.  But, then you come around.  And low and behold by the end of your first day, you're an “A” student.  Yeah, they make it real nice.  Too bad life isn't like that.  It's not so easy to beat it, in life.  Sure you can get help.

     But, it doesn't make it go away.  So, you try your best to hide it from the world.  Hide it!  Like you've done something wrong.  You know, you avoid the things it comes out in most.  Like writing and reading.  You put on a front and try to bluff your way through things.  You lie, cheat, and steal your way around any situation that comes up.  But, in the end you're just making yourself look stupid, because it doesn't make it go away.  It never goes away.

     You know, you could be going along nice and smooth and all of a sudden there it is.  And, that's it.  You're frozen, completely useless.  You look at what you're trying to do a hundred ways from Sunday, but it's no good.  You just can't see how it's suppose to come together.  So you sit there, Frustrated as all Hell, until finally you sink so low as to have to ask for help.  Or, it slips out when you're not looking.  You're typing away on some report that has to be on your boss's desk in the morning.  Without knowing it, your dyslexia slips from your fingertips, and into the spelling on your report.  Oh sure, you spell check it, but it's not enough and you know it.  Something slips by just for your boss's eyes only.  Then he goes around thinking you're stupid for the rest of the time you work there.  And of course you get to sit and wonder why you never get that promotion you've been waiting for.

     Asking for help is the worst though.  That brings back all the memories.  You remember all the “SPECIAL” classrooms in school.  The fights you'd get into when the other kids teased you.  Yeah, you were a member of the retard class in school.  The name still sticks in your mind, along with the other insults the NORMAL kids would hurl at you.  But, that's all right because all kids are cruel sometimes.  They just don't know any better.  I would guess that they learn it from us adults.  Food for thought huh.  Yes, it's the adult's comments that you remember the most.  Oh, they don't remember saying them, but they did and you hear em.  They say things like “What are you stupid”?  “an IDIOT”.  Yeah, you hear  em and you remember.

     Remember when you would have spelling contests in school?  You know, when you would be placed on a team, boys against the girls or right side of the class against the left side, whatever.  Everyone would have to take a turn.  You'd do everything possible to get missed.  The teacher should have known better after all you always had to go to the “SPECIAL” classes.

     “OK, who's up next?  Tim, I see you back there.  Your word is DIPLOMAT”.

     “I don't want to,” You'd plead.

     “Just do it,” she'd say exasperated.

     So you would go up to the board 'biqlomat'.  Then it came, the laughter.  It came from everywhere.  You could hear the teacher, what she was saying under her breath.

     “My God, I don't remember his brother being this stupid”.

     The word STUPID rang out, seemingly to have been egged on by the laughter.  You wish you were dead.  Nine years old and you wish you were dead.  You remember.  They deny it and, I REMEMBER.

     They're the adults that don't know about your problem.  If you can imagine, the ones that do know are even worse.  They treat you like you are what the other ones are saying about you.  Yeah, like you're this giant moron, and they're this great God, come to lift you out of your low, insignificant life,  Yes, they've come to shape you into something they know is better.

     But, what can you do, the past is the past.  You can't track them all down, and say, Hey look how well I turned out after all.  Besides if you did they wouldn't care anyhow.  You can't go out and hunt them down to kill either.  Though sometimes you wish you could.  So, what can you do?  You just go around, kinda with this chip on your shoulder waiting for someone to knock it off.  You're though; you made it through on your own.  No one can take that from you.  Even if they think you're mean cause you're tough.  So excuse me when I say, you can go to hell world, I'm here and I ain't going anywhere.