It’s hard to be part of a different family. No, not a new family, that’s fine and fun, but a different family, one that’s already established. I come to wonder; what would life be like without me there? I can see negatives on my side, even our side, but their side would be glowing. Would his? If yes, then take me off.
It’s hard to be a third wheel.
Unless the formation is like a wheelbarrow — those are good and fine. They’re strong, and can carry heavy loads.
But when it’s like a lone training wheel, a little rickety thing attached to the side of the two big wheels — disaster. Those lopsided contraptions may be configured with the best of intentions, coming about because one of the original set of trainers is taken off so the rider can get used to a little more independence without being completely launched into a small 2 inch surface area to balance on and go fast on and change directions with. But it quickly turns into a hindrance. Ride on it too long and you become lopsided, unable to take that final step into two-wheeled freedom. You never learn to trust yourself.
I wonder which wheel I am. That little tiny wheel or one of the big guys. I think something has to go. Or change. If we could wheelbarrow, that would be cool. Where can I move, what can I do? While still being me?
Let’s move to happier wheels. Like wagon wheels.
And if I die in Raleigh, at least I will die free