Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like
I mean you no harm. My colorful underpants are not meant to speak to you. They are a self-affirmation I practice to ensure my own dynamism, which isn’t necessarily apparent as I go out in the world. I’m not necessarily making a dynamic impression as I go out in the world, and much of the time when I speak people don’t hear me. Someone, I think, told me once that to be heard in a noisy world you must whisper, but I’ve proven over time this isn’t the case. Now my colorful underpants shout my dynamic self to the world. They’re the voice I can’t naturally summon and the message I’m driven to project, that inside the quiet chap is a nebula of vigor, a vibrant song of realization.
And though you can’t see my colorful underpants and don’t want to know, I suppose, that they are bikini style and very snug, you can tell by my cocky stance and the cut of my jib that they are doing their work. They allow me to go out in the world now with an inner strut, a certainty that I will be heard even when I don’t speak, that my dynamism is apparent, that I need fear nothing, that no matter what happens in the course of a day I’ll always be at my strongest and my message will get through, that the quiet chap is a nebula of vigor, a vibrant song of realization, a force to be contended with. But…
I do harbor one small fear, now that I think about it, because my colorful underpants are my little secret, my secret source of potency, I can’t let anyone else see them or my potency might be neutralized, I might weaken and fail to be heard, so that if something should happen, an accident, an emergency, and the EMTs have to scissor the pants right off my legs, someone’s going to have a good laugh over my colorful underpants, and I’ll shrink in humiliation. My dynamism will be lost, I’ll be rendered a middle-aged clown in tangerine biknis who’s fooling no one, who is nothing like a nebula of vigor, a vibrant song of realization, who is, in the end, a silly pretender whose tomorrows have become yesterdays that have faded over the rear horizon.
Yes, I’m afraid of this, but what I get out of my colorful underpants is worth the risk.