Grey Area...

The Grey Area by Eliza Fricker

The grey area is of course confusing.

After all, there is nothing concrete.

The grey area is many truths, you see.

And there are some who do not like this.

There are those that are frightened, who do not like to not know.

They are scared to get it wrong, fail, get hurt again.

And there are those who like how it feels to be right.

They get lots of nice things said about them.

People might give them more opportunities, money, a better office even.

These people also might have been harmed or hurt too in the past, so they need to know now more than ever they are liked or loved.

And we all know, to be liked feels good.

And let’s face it, money (in these penny pinching times) feels good too.

All these things are obvious drives for anyone.

But the problem is sometimes we get there by hurting others.

Using their name as if it’s just a name, not a person with feelings.

Combine this with the fact that no one likes uncertainty.

It can feel scary to not be right, or worse, wrong.

So some grab hammer and nails and want to pin this thing down.

And maybe there are those saying their certainty isn’t for them, so then lots of hurt and scared people are all trying to hammer it down.

Because, of course, the grey area is confusing.

I mean, what if we think two things opposing at the same time?

What if someone tells us something else to what we thought?

Like imagine if during the worst time in our lives we were also happy?

So, no, many of us who are scared do not want grey areas.

We want to paint them black?

No, white.

Definitely white.

Everyone knows that.

Look, I can tell you why.

I have stories that will make you really, really sad and angry and then you will have to choose white.

Now, everywhere I look I am seeing white.

Every image I see is white.

But then I meet an old woman on the bus, and she is not white.

But we are talking about other stuff, and it’s funny and nice.

And maybe she doesn’t like white at all.

But she was really kind to me that time and it felt more real and made more sense than anyone else did at the time.

So maybe there are people I can like for one thing, and not for others?

Oh.

Is that the grey area?

A place of many, different, lots of things, where not everything makes sense?

But maybe we can be kind?

Maybe we can meet on a bench sometime and both look at the same tree or dog or clouds?

And just sit there, not knowing, but maybe the grey area is where we meet.