SOME OF US

Some of us are different.

Some of us find a way. Some of us get it done no matter what. Some of us fight until the end. Some of us are programmed to never give in.

Some of us are composed of starlight and fire. Some of us have ice in our veins. Some of us are walking headfirst into the wind. Some of us are walking in the opposite direction—of everybody else.

Some of us are never late. Some of us don’t miss appointments. Some of us are never not busy. Some of us always find openings.

Some of us find untouched paths and undiscovered opportunities. Some of us can shove ten pounds of shit into a five pound bag, and make it look good. Some of us put too much on our plate, and then ask for seconds. Some of us are dumb enough to go back for thirds.

Some of us forget to breathe. Some of us think breathing is overrated. Some of us forget to sleep, or sleep while walking. Some of us are postponing sleep for death.

Some of us write lists of inventions. Some of us write lists of lists. Some of us don’t bother writing at all, we just move. Some of us can’t not move.

Some of us don’t want our hands held. Some of us don’t want your compassion, patience or understanding. Some of us just want you to get the hell out of the way. Some of us don’t even realize you’re there, we just keep walking forward.

Some of us are gods. Some of us are immortal. Some of us have chained our hearts to this earth and refuse to leave. Some of us are too good to die, and will leave death for others.

Some of us succeed where others do not. Some of us reinvent the wheel because round can be so incredibly square. Some of us cram square pegs into round holes. Some of us just drill new holes and make shit fit.

Some of us like our scars. Some of us like our pain. Some of us like feeling our muscles flex. Some like the adrenaline in our veins.

Some of us do not play well with others. Some of us do not wait for permission. Some of us act now and apologize later. Some of us never apologize.

Some of us make history. Some of us rock the boat. Some of us break shackles. Some of us say to hell with staying inside the lines.

Some of us speak in code. Some of us see the world in code—right and wrong, fast and slow, hot and cold, new and old. Some of us invent new code, and try it on the world. Some of us reinvent the code for all others to follow.

Some of us are race cars. Some of us are supercharged, fully blown, with headers and dual exhaust—and don’t forget the racing stripes. Some of us are tanks rolling across the landscape. Some of us are sonic jets ripping through the sky.

Some of us are superheroes. Some of us can fly. Some of us hide our capes from the world. Some of us show our costumes off.

Some of us fill in the gaps that others leave open. Some of us kill it, every single time. Some of us devote everything, everyday. Some of us live at 100 miles per hour.

Some of us have a different constitution. Some of us have tiger blood. Some of us are addicted to winning. Some of us are warlocks.

Some of us don’t have an “off” switch. Some of us don’t have “quit” within us. Some of us don’t know how to not fight, how to not be abrasive, how to not eternally bash our head into the brick wall with hopes of pushing through. Some of us make it through.

Some of us are angels angling for Elysium. Some of us are demons driven by desires, fueling our fires and fanning the flames. Some of us are caught in limbo between the two, eternally balancing the implosion and explosion. Some of us are neutral, and just enjoy watching the game.

Some of us were misfortunate enough to have been born during the wrong century. Some of us should have been born on a Viking battlefield, with horned helmets and sooty faces. Some of us should have been born with golden steeds and battle cloaks emblazoned with the coat of arms of our ancestors. Some of us adjust to this misfortune by applying our innate battle ethic to the modern desk, computer and client, smashing all with the same resolve seen on the war field.

Some of us refuse to be like most of us. Some of us insist on being just some of us. All of us have the opportunity. Some of us simply take it.

Some of us are different.

-David A. Johnston