At the core, I am no better than you. It’s ironic, you think you are better, I think I am better. The difference is that I question it.
But in my mind I don’t believe it. Especially when you open your mouth and words fall out that make me want to laugh. When that happens, I know I am better. Although your words make us all laugh, it’s not the same. You all point at me, at my coat (the one you called stupid). A coat I love because it has 20 pockets. I thought it was cool but you say it’s a beggar’s coat and that makes them laugh. But I can put stuff in those pockets that can hurt you and that makes me laugh. You all laugh at something you think is stupid, me, which is a stupid thing to laugh at. I have something real to laugh at but I don’t. Because I’ve taken enough of a beating today. One black eye is enough.
So go ahead, trip me in the hall again. Point at me as I lay there face down, papers and books scattered everywhere. My face is down, my eyes fill with tears, but inside I am rolling with laughter. We each laugh for different reasons. But tomorrow, I think I will have the last laugh.