A Streetlight Manifesto

By: Timothy M. Farris II

I make an excuse and walk out my door, it is very dark outside. Silence
however is unknown to me as I walk down an icy street with
headphones in my head. Listening to such angry music, I think of
nothing but hateful things that drive me to my desired future. I am the
strong one, the conquering one, the one that will never give up, never
surrender, never give in, and will never falter. The only thing that fuels
me is my hate and distrust. I trust those I hate more than I trust those
that fight beside me.

This image of my eternal mental battle rages through my mind

whenever I am alone. The music fuels the fire and helps me deal with
this passionate life of living hate. Walking through the dark, cold,
unfulfilling night, all that I desire is more and more and more power
and conquest. I am a true gladiator by soul and body, and these
terrible crimes I must justify with my rage.

Not enough rage.

I change tracks, and change the tone of my thoughts. What if my rage

isn’t enough? What can one person do alone?

Need more rage.

I idolize my allies in my mind, imagining myself growing weak and

defeated, and my allies picking me up again and needing me to
continue fighting.

I don’t have enough rage.

The fields of battle role through my mind, as our sword of justice slays
those who deserve to be stricken by our might, our allies lay siege to
the enemies of our ranks, and together, we combine our rage and
move as a single unified mind to fight those who would deny the
destructive force of our combined rage.

Need more rage…I’LL…

Uniting, those who we fight for who are defeated, besmirched, and
fallen rise to release their rage upon us. We charge the enemy.

Not enough rage…KILL...

My comrade’s fall from left to right, unable to recover from a deadly
blow. They hand me their rage.

I don’t have enough rage…YOU…

In the end, our rage purely defeats the enemy. But what is left?
My thoughts drift to after the battle…where will I release the rest of the
rage I generate? Will I find another battle? The rage swells up and fills
me.

Too much rage.

Was what I did good? Was I a hero? Was I-

I stop my music. Ahead of me is a long cemented pathway, trees on

the right and a large wooden fence on the left. Streetlights illuminate
the pathway a stale yellow color, and two figures with a dog leash held
by one walk in my direction.

I must look pretty twisted walking at night like this. We pass each
other, a certain tension between us, and as I continue, I begin to start
my music again. But the song has ended, and the next random track
plays. It is Joy of Man’s Desire by Bach played on a piano. It is so sad
and slow, almost as if it were the thoughts of someone crying out in
sadness about their life.

What’s this? My eyes are moist…getting wet…am I crying? Yes. The

person whose thoughts are sad and are crying are mine. I walk faster.
Why am I sad? I’m filled with rage. I try to tap into my pool of rage to
wash away this sudden outburst of sadness, but it’s futile. The rage
isn’t there. The rage was never there. All there ever was in my heart
was sorrow. I was sad, so I wanted to hurt others to make them feel
sad also.

Why? Because even if I hate them, I want them to understand me. If

they understand me, do I really hate them? If all I ever had is sorrow,
did I ever really hate them in the first place? I approach a flight of
stairs…they’re icy, so I pay attention and walk down them carefully. I
walk across a schoolyard, lights inside can be seen.

What makes me think I know all of this? I am strong, I am a fighter, I

use my rage to smite those that deserve to fall to my desires. Isn’t that
who I am? Two people can be seen down the pathway, one on a cell
phone. I stop my music and quickly walk past them.
“It only works here” one of them says. I smile at him and walk away.
“God bless you” he says. I give a slow and considerate wave back as I
walk. I turn back on my music. All the feelings and thoughts of before I
now gone…I feel something else. It is tension. Around here is a girl I
hardly know, but whom I have deep feelings for. Her name is Sara, and
I think I can understand her more than myself in some ways.

It was last year (sophomore year) and Sara and I were in the same 6th
hour English class. She was really pretty, but she was just like any
other popular girl that I knew. She was showered with friends,
affection, and happiness. I envied her, even though I was a guy. I wish
the whole world would come to me that way. She sat ahead of me at
my four-person table, I was glad that the teacher sat us this way.

Next to her was a guy I knew, and next to me was a girl I knew. I had a
pretty good social circle here. I usually took center stage in our meager
conversations, always giving a strong opinion. She just laughed and
smiled, keeping her hands in front of her mouth for some reason. I
thought it was just sooooo cute.

I had a crush on her, and because I knew that a relationship would go

absolutely nowhere because I’ve never had an actual girlfriend, I
decided I wouldn’t pursue it. On the last day though, I remembered
when I was in 4th grade and had a crush on a girl…and how much I
wanted to say something to her. I really regretted that decision. Would
I regret this one? How could I ever approach her?

I started to stare at her from across the room, since I blankly stare off
into space often, this was normal looking for me. She sat at a table
with 2 guys and another girl, one of the guys was taking lead over the
conversation like I used to. She barely seemed interested at all, but
instead scooted her chair closer to the table as if she were too far
away. Was she?

I looked her straight in her beautiful blue eyes and saw that she was
staring not at the group she was in, but past it. Off into space. She was
thinking about something…I wonder what? Now that I looked her
straight in the eyes, she seemed so lonely…so alone…as if she had
something very important to her rolling in her mind and that she
wanted to tell someone, but no one would accept what she wanted to
say. It was so sad. I wanted to talk to her about it but I was too afraid.

I didn’t want to interfere in her thoughts and was to frightened to talk

to her at all, so as the coward I am, I wrote her a letter right there in
class.
Dear Sara,
I had a crush on you this year. You’re as good as a person as you are
incredibly beautiful. Too bad I wasn’t the same. Just getting this off my
chest before Summer Vacation.

Sincerely, xxxx

P.S. If you ever want to talk to me for any reason at all, here’s my email
address.

That’s exactly what I wrote. At 2PM the bell rang and in a loud herd,
everyone started to leave the class.

“…Sara…” her back was to me.

“Sara.” She was heading out the door. She didn’t hear me, it’s a lost
cause, just don’t give it to her.
“Sara!”

My heart pounded. I couldn’t look at her straight in the eyes. I instead

looked away and gave held the folded paper out, which she took with
surprisingly fast reflexes. I strode past her and out the door.

Sometime during the summer, I was at a friends’ house spending the

night. He has a pretty weird backyard and some neighbors. They
decided that they’d wear ninja masks made out of t-shirts and start
wrestling, which of course I participated in because I am a great
fighter, full of rage and with the power to fight any foe. Some stuff
happened, and a man came from a neighbor’s house and jumped the
fence and chased us inside my friend’s house from his backyard. We
sat talking about it and I asked who it was and he said, “Sara’s dad.”
Her father seemed to be quite full of anger. My friend told me that he is
an extremely angry person who will get pissed from the slightest thing.
I laughed to hide my terror. My father was the same and I hard scars to
prove it.

Starting my Junior year, which was 3 months after that event, she was
in a different class in the gym at the same time as I was. I was actually
considering working extra hard…but I decided that there really was no
point and that I have really low blood sugar and bad overall health
anyways. All I’d be doing would be straining myself, and she probably
wouldn’t care anyways. I’ve never really ‘noticed’ someone working
really hard in gym, so she probably wouldn’t notice either. However…at
times I noticed she’d be looking at me from afar. And I’d look at her
right back. We’d both look at each other with such curiosity, but a lot of
sadness.
Now I wander just past her house in the darkness…I hear a laugh from
inside a house nearby. Was that her? Is she happy right now? No. It was
some other wanderers in the darkness who got quiet as soon as they
saw me.

Am I afraid of getting rejected? Is that why I don’t say anything? Do I

even want to be with her? I know I love her. Her eyes and actions hold
the same terror and make as mine do. When I take center stage and
give the image of an endlessly battling warrior to those around me, it is
because that is my guise to be accepted. Is flirting with many boys,
hanging out with them, and being popular hers’?

Deep down, is there a story of sadness such as mine? Does her heart
ache like mine does?

As such a beautiful person on the surface, it is probably no surprise to

her to have people wanting to ‘hold’ her. But from her perspective…if
so many people want to hold her because of what she looks like,
wouldn’t the concept be very redundant? Am I just another person
falling for this succubae-like interest?

I do not believe so. At this point, I am home. I have walked for almost
two hours thinking about someone other than myself. Is this love? Do I
want to hold her in my arms? No. I want to make her understand how I
feel and show her that it’s not so different than what she feels.

This whole time I’ve thought of only her eyes and facial expression,
then of her father and my own life growing up. The image of her flesh
has hardly touched my mind, and I realize now that it must be so much
harder for her to tell who is honest from who is not. Words are my only
obstacle, and I want to convey this love for her, but I cannot even
fathom a way how. Would it even matter? I’m not good boyfriend
material, and everything I do is very selfish. She’d be better off without
a shadow like me over her head.

But I now lay down to fall asleep…it’s so quiet and she’s all I can think
about…so I turn on hate filled music to drown out my love.

And that helps me get by.