People Are Afraid Of Me Because I Don't Represent Their Little Boxes
People are afraid of me. Not because I’m dangerous, not because I’m hateful, but because I don’t fit neatly into their little boxes. In a world obsessed with labels, sides, and rigid categories, I represent something else: peace, love, and freedom. These things shouldn’t be seen as radical or creepy—yet somehow they are.
Why? Because true peace doesn’t sell. True love can’t be packaged. True freedom can’t be owned by a party, a faction, or an ideology. And when you choose to live outside those carefully drawn lines, you suddenly become a threat. People fear what they can’t control, and they can’t control someone who doesn’t pledge allegiance to their boxes.
John Lennon knew this. In the ’60s, ’70s, and even into the ’80s, people feared him. They feared his music, his message, his refusal to bow down to governments or movements that demanded conformity. He wasn’t perfect, but he carried a vision larger than any party could contain: a vision that promised something to the people, not to the systems that oppressed them.
That’s where I stand. I don’t show promise to a side or a party or a label. I show promise to the people—the real, living, breathing souls who want to be free, who want to love, who want to live without being told who they must be.
So if I scare you, maybe it’s not really me you’re afraid of. Maybe you’re afraid of what happens when those little boxes break open and people finally realize they don’t need them anymore.
Why? Because true peace doesn’t sell. True love can’t be packaged. True freedom can’t be owned by a party, a faction, or an ideology. And when you choose to live outside those carefully drawn lines, you suddenly become a threat. People fear what they can’t control, and they can’t control someone who doesn’t pledge allegiance to their boxes.
John Lennon knew this. In the ’60s, ’70s, and even into the ’80s, people feared him. They feared his music, his message, his refusal to bow down to governments or movements that demanded conformity. He wasn’t perfect, but he carried a vision larger than any party could contain: a vision that promised something to the people, not to the systems that oppressed them.
That’s where I stand. I don’t show promise to a side or a party or a label. I show promise to the people—the real, living, breathing souls who want to be free, who want to love, who want to live without being told who they must be.
So if I scare you, maybe it’s not really me you’re afraid of. Maybe you’re afraid of what happens when those little boxes break open and people finally realize they don’t need them anymore.
26-30, M
