the light in which they see me

i can’t see myself in the light in which they see me.

i look in the mirror and i see something drab, uncreative, something bland and boring. like a chicken breast slapped on a baking sheet without a sprinkle of seasoning — nary a pinch of salt.

they told me i was “lawful good” and i took offense because to me that’s the boring alignment, the one that’s goody-two-shoes, follow the rules, no spice, no spark.

i want to be the spark. i don’t even wish to be the flame that lights the room; i want to be the match striking the flint…