I Refuse to Be Defined by the Four Ton Weight Which Is Slowly Crushing Me

As I'm out and about, the first thing people notice when they glance my way is the enormous four ton weight atop my broken body. I get it. We are, by our very nature, superficial creatures. But there's so much more to me than the classic black iron trapezoid with a handle and the words "4 Tons" printed in bold white letters on its side.

Look a little closer.

See that I am also a hand peeking out from under the weight, palm up to the sky, twisted fingers strained and twitching.

Circle the weight until you reach the opposite corner and see that I am also a foot inside a shoe, pressed as flat as a sheet of paper and squeezed out from a spot where you wouldn't think a foot would be. Curiously, there is nothing graphic about the visual. It's just a two dimensional white sneaker with red trim, perfectly preserved and stretched out five times as wide as it once was.

Listen long enough and you will eventually hear that I am a voice, small and uncertain, saying, "Oh man this four ton weight is pretty heavy."

Basically, I'm just like you.

I have my inner doubts and regrets. At my lowest, when I am alone at night with my thoughts and the long silence in the ruins of my collapsed bed, I allow myself to relive that fateful day and kick myself for not paying more attention to the sign:

If I had known the weight cost nearly two thousand dollars, I would have never allowed myself to be crushed by it.

I also have hopes, just as you do.

It is my dream that if I work hard and apply myself, I can remove this terrible four ton weight from my body, and replace it with a brand new two ton weight.

– Dennis "Corin Tucker's Stalker" Farrell (@DennisFarrell)