I am the Best

I am the Best

Have you ever realised how lonely and solitary it is at the top, alone; standing solo? Watching others crumble, stumble, support and evolve, makes me feel lonelier and more distant. When they look at me for comfort on their failures and lower their eyelids in shame even before I can respond, I feel ashamed of being adjudged as the best.

I never wanted to be perfect. I threw tantrums as a child and gave my parents sleepless nights as a youth but nature conspired in my favour. Every deed of mine got favourably interpreted and accepted. Some self-appointed guardians deduced my actions, though none of them ever knew me. There are more like me; people mounted on pedestals. Yes, I call them my secret tribe.

I’ve often seen my tribesmen trying to be everywhere; omnipresent for anyone who calls out to them for help. They know of us but do they really know us?  I wonder. If we are believed to be everywhere then do they need to seek us in the outside world? Why not look for us within themselves?

Strangely, when I see my tribesmen from afar, they look like me. Lonely.

As I sit and wait on this blanket of clouds, where they look for me, I feel … manipulated. I have fallen prey to their expectations. Like other members of my tribe, I was breathing, roaming amongst them but they started idolising me and labelled me as a ‘chosen one!’ To fulfil their idea of perfection, I lost my friends and loved ones. Some deserted me and some I abandoned in search of glory. I often wonder, do my loved ones also consider me worthy of such an honour? These thoughts stray me from my path and so I have discarded my personal feelings as trash… and they rejoiced at my doing so.

The cycle didn’t end there, one of my tribesmen sacrificed his desires, chose the ‘right path’ abandoned his loved ones and became an omnipresent blanket to guide them, but they still mounted him on a wooden cross.

We willingly left this mortal world for their common good but they manipulated our actions and misconstrued our deeds. They wrote our stories and sang them aloud but forgot to follow them. They heaped honour on us and adorned us on their most coveted seat and called us God.

Do you know the feeling when everyone looks through you? They acknowledge your name in every sentence but disregard your presence. Painful and deceitful.

I wonder how many people I’ve looked at all my life and never seen.
                                                                                     John Steinbeck

This guy was right, I too feel the same. They look up to me only to declare that becoming God is easy, to lead a normal human life is difficult or to find an excuse for their immoral actions by labelling me God and themselves mere human. Do they know how solitary it is up here? How lonely is this solo act of becoming God? I may have a million followers but not one whom I can share my feelings with. Can I step down from this revered platform for just a while and breathe easy? Can I stop playing God? Can I be within you and not solo?
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