I refuse, I said out loud even though there was no one else in the room. Once was not enough so again I shouted: I refuse. And I meant every word, every one of the two words and if you count repetitions then I meant every one of the four.
No one wants to buy me, it’s true: but I refuse to be a sell-out. Where did that come from? I was not sure. I still am not. But as random as it may sound, I will not be a sell-out. I’d rent my arms and feet, I’d rent a liver and a kidney, I’d even sell a toe if need be, but I will not sell or rent or lend or lease my brain and/or, if you’re feeling poetic, my heart.
No one asked me and I can’t stress this enough: no one has ever asked. Not a single person, not an old man crossing the street, not the owners of a huge and important house. But if anyone is feeling inclined to ask me, do or don’t for the answer will be: I refuse!
I refuse to be what others expect me to be, unless those expectations are the good kind of expectations and they meet mine. Oh and if they meet mine, imagine what a beautiful meeting that would be! The expectations would hold hands and walk under flowered arches, smiling at one another: they’d be friends. They would understand one another and they would whisper and those whispers would resonate in my eardrums and I would do my very best to make the great things that were expected. I would not — and will not! — give up. I would sit on a bench near a lake and take a look at the mountains and there would our expectations be: there they would be hiking and rising to the occasion and I would follow then, pen and paper in hand. I would row a wooden boat down a turquoise river and wander in the sunlit woods and I would follow then [pen and paper in hand] until I found the way.
But I refuse! No one has asked me [and therefore there is little use in refusing]: still I refuse. No, I would not enjoy dying under a bridge somewhere or starving to death: no, that doesn’t sound pleasant, not at all. I will work towards not doing that, however it is that someone works towards not doing something [I will figure it out]. I will work away from that: and I will employ body and limbs and strength and energy but never blood and mind.
My blood is tied to words, in whatever language they might be: my blood and mind are forever bound to make the undecipherable understood through words and their imagery. So if you ask me [and no one has ever] I will answer: I refuse! And it will be true — for I do not believe I have a soul, but if you try to buy it out I will refuse.