“Why are you here?” his father questioned him, almost sounding remorseful. He gave him a good stare from the other side of the door, and Leod looked back with self-assurance. It was visible in his every move. Every breath. Every thought. He had finally come home after years of being dismissed from society. Years of being humiliated simply because of his individual beliefs. In his hometown, once a person was born, their entire life was predetermined. There was a strict set of laws on gender roles, social class, and even professionalism. From a brief glance, the community seemed as though everyone were pampered little flowers, always watered, fed, guarded, and admired. Leod, on the other hand, felt more like a tall, ugly weed. When he was born, he did not look, act or think like anyone else. Even his name, Leod, translated to ugly. His parents regarded this as a derangement or a disorder, but Leod simply thought that everyone should embrace their differences, and if they did, life would be so much more interesting than the preset routine, a mirror image of the preferences of the head ministry. He believed that a person should have free will to choose what they want their future to come of, opposed to being dictated in submission to a set of enforced rules. One should feel that they are strong, and free— as though they are on top of the highest mountain.
He began preaching his ideas to his household, then to his neighbors. He wrote books, and attempted to publish them, but the government chose who was able to publish what. People were regarding this as “evil” and “rebellious,” and eventually reported to the ministry. They finally decided to suspend him from the town for some time, and thought that he should be left alone to know what it feels like to live without the support of them. There was not a specified amount of time as to how long he should be gone for, since the ministry assumed that he would just forget about everything and never come back. His family was not the least bit upset with his absence; no one seemed to take notice of him. In fact, it was his own father that suggested for him to be alone for some time. Leod was not heard of after that; he was left alone with nothing but his thoughts. His feelings. His ambitions.
He wandered off, just walking passively. It was then that he decided that he would drift away, like a piece of bark on the ocean, with no particular intention in mind, and return someday with some fresh understandings from experiences outside the protective bubble in which he was raised. He set off, encountering distant lands and foreign peoples, discovering the concept of culture, tradition, and most importantly, identity. Exotic figures, monuments, and stories were the highlights of his unknown adventure. He learned to not only survive, but thrive on his own, and how to simply live. Through his emprise, Leod realized that he wasn’t the only one who believed in individualism, and had thought that there might be a slight possibility that the mindset of the townsfolk had changed. Now, he found himself standing face to face with his father, presenting himself in his disheveled appearance—bedhead hair and tattered sneakers—in comparison to his father’s conservative suit and tie. “Why are you here?” his father asked a second time, growing impatient.
“I wanted to see you… I was kinda wondering if anything changed around here.”
“Oh. Well, everything’s just like it always had been. You can go back to where you were.” His father grunted, closing the door on him. Leod placed his foot in the way. “Aren’t you going to let me in? I just wanted to talk to you about—”
“You might as well come in.” his father interrupted. “I don’t want to hear you rambling again about being yourself and whatnot.” He reluctantly led him inside the childhood home in which he recorded his philosophies and ideas for years prior to his suspension. In all directions, the interior of the house looked untouched since he left. He found his mother sitting in the living room, and when she looked up from watching TV, her face fell. Leod never truly understood why everyone had made such a great fuss over his thoughts; it was amazing how an entire society could stand being spoiled by a greater power, who made every single decision for them. How could there be no sense of purpose, or a greater understanding of the world, if everyone was left to serve their duties to the government? Even as a child, Leod never truly understood why this was so, or why there weren’t any records of someone trying to resist the higher power. He then turned his attention toward the television screen, and recognized the exact same news station, and the same reporter since he left. He noticed that the bland, grey walls were the same, as well as the matching furniture designed to accomodate a family of three. There was no piece of artwork, or any piece of entertainment, aside from the few books and television channels that the government tolerated. It felt as though he was standing in the middle of an abandoned building in a ghost town. He took a seat opposite to the right of his mother, and his father sat beside him, not once taking his gaze off of him.
“You look different,” his mom said to him, “Happy, even.”
“I just wanted to see you guys, it’s been so long. Maybe I could still change your minds about the stuff I wrote and what I’ve seen, being away and all.” He chuckled to himself, making sure he didn’t show obvious signs of amusement.
“Look, we made you leave because we did not want anyone else to be affected by your disorderly thinking and there seemed to be no reason for you to even try to fit in with everyone else. We simply wanted what’s best for you.” There was a slight shaking in her voice.
Disorderly thinking. Was this really how they thought of me? he thought. Was this their raw, genuine thought that came to mind when my ideas came into conversation? He couldn’t maintain his cool any longer. “Mom! Dad! There is nothing wrong with me!” he urged, raising his voice. “I simply believe that we should not let anyone else make decisions for us. I don’t want to think of us as incapable of doing things our own way, or as delicate plants growing in clustered valleys, I—”
“Enough!” after not speaking for so long, his father startled him, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the house
“No, it’s not enough! Do you even know what it’s like out there? Outside this sorry excuse of a town?”
“You don’t know what you’re saying! You never understood anything. Have you ever tried to think about how we feel?”
“I didn’t even think you had emotions, Dad. Is this what you want? Is living the same routine everyday what you want? I may not have never fit in from the day I was born, but you know what? I would much rather you consider me as the ugly weed, if I could stand alone and free.” He let out a tremendous sigh. He wouldn’t want to admit it, but Leod had developed a deep hatred for his parent’s ignorance and unwillingness to spark a change in the community. His father hadn’t moved an inch; he had maintained his cold stare. His mother looked to the ground, not a single sound escaping her mouth. Leod simply shook his head. He decided that it wouldn’t make any difference if the world tried to change their perspectives on anything. He decided that it was best if he simply left. “I see that you were right, Dad. Nothing has changed.” He rose up, and headed for the front door. His father was about to say something, but words couldn’t escape his mouth. Leod stopped just before he took one step outside. He could’ve sworn that he noticed a hint of sadness in his father’s eyes, but the moment didn’t last long. He turned to face both his parents. “Just for your reference, I want you both to remember me as the ugly weed.”
He slammed the door behind him.
“He reminds me so much of myself when I was younger,” Leod’s father broke the silence. He turned to his wife. “He is so lucky to be out of this place. So, so lucky.”
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