Sticky Keys (a story/ish)

Sticky Keys

Everyone gets the exact same keys on their computer, don’t they?

We’re human boys or girls who have everything we need to go about living. Some keys help you with one thing, some with another. Seems simple.

They say if you have the keys you need and they all work, then you’re sane and can manage your life.

But some keys get used more than others, depending where you live. In most countries, the letter ‘u’ gets used more than in the USA. So on our keyboards, the ‘u’ would face more wear and tear than theirs. Right?

Then sometimes you spill things near by or crumbs get in. Life struggles make certain keys stick. And sometimes it’s just the making of the machine that causes that dysfunction. Or your dominant hand might press a bit more firmly than the other. So those keys face more wear and tear.

It’s not that the machine is broken, it’s just it gets harder to use. Right?

….

That’s the difference between being normalish, and not. Whatever that normalish is. Whatever that normal isn’t.

Ralph could walk down any street, he could talk to anyone about anything, and he could accomplish a lot of things in his week.
And if you didn’t know him well, you wouldn’t suspect a thing.
Even those who did know him well weren’t always sure they were right when they thought he was …. not using that keyboard quite right.

But everyone is a bit off in their own way, right? We have our own habits and obsessions, our own oddities. And life kind of leads us to use those keys more than any others.

Ralph wasn’t insane, or stupid and could make his way thru a LOT of tests that probably should have weeded him out. But didn’t,

He read the wrong books, listened to the wrong music, liked the wrong art. He put his foot in his mouth more often than most people did.

But most of all, Ralph felt a bone deep sense of being alone.

It led him to being misled, misused, conned by people. And each time his heart was bruised a little more.

Till he found that group. The ones who loved his books, his music, his art. And seemed to want him around. And he sunk into that feeling.

But there was that feeling of the shoe that might drop, any second now?

Everyone else was happy he’d found his people. And he thought he might have as well. He hoped he might have as well.

But had he? He just couldn’t shake that feeling. Was it prescience? Or a lifetime of having a bruised heart?

….

They say if you have the keys you need and they all work, then you’re sane and can manage your life.

We’re human boys or girls who have everything we need to go about living. Some keys help you with one thing, some with another. Seems simple.

Everyone gets the exact same keys on their computer, don’t they?

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