I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
I’m no good in terms of poem interpretation, in digging out the gist beneath the lines, the words, and the tone of the speaker. However, this wonderful poem of Emily Dickenson, I’m Nobody! Who are you, had popped into my mind while I was reading the novel of Han Nolan. I first encountered this poem during my elementary grades, wherein we were given a poem recital. Our teacher explained all about the poem but I did not get any of her points, I just liked it on how I recite it; the rhyming sounds and how the poem struck me with the style that as if I was talking to myself only.
Now, at least I’ve tried to read between the lines.
I’m nobody! Who are you? Contemplating about the first line caused me a long-drawn-out time. I’m
nobody. It’s hard to be nobody when society has taught us to be proactive (that proactive are better) and the thought became the standard, the good, the quality. Throughout my life, I have tried to be
somebody, somebody just like my dad, my cousins, my siblings’ playmates, my classmates. I've tried so hard to be somebody just to feel the sense of company and the feeling of being “likeable”. Time has transpired so fast, and I didn’t notice that I was acting somebody but in fact, I’m just nobody. I sounded like a crazy frog, blabbering just to be part of the crowd (
which I didn’t recognize at first) and then I lost the sense of distinction, my own sense of distinction. I had the experience of spotlights and the cloud nine of infamy for once (
at least) or twice and it made me feel like I was ten feet higher than the ground but then I fell...hard, so hard.
I remember, my high school friend had told me once that I ‘d have my failed days in due time. His words were so powerful that now I’m on my trying times, the feeling of the other extreme judging against to feeling I had on the spotlight.
Just lately, I felt “I’m Nobody”, a speck of dirt in the vast universe, floating, living, moving unknowingly, and just nothing. And for once, I felt a warmth despite of being alone, despite of my chilling hands yearning for a hand to clinch on. Somehow, it brought positive things on me - somehow. But as I looked on my cell phone, though I haven’t been “loading” for months, messages are still coming out. In that case, I’ve realized something, something very important. Yes, I’m nobody but I’m somebody for the ones who care for me, who still love(
i don't know what's the right term) me despite of my blandness. They may not be a coliseum- quantity or can’t even complete a team in number but I know I could count them on my fingers. They exist not only because I think of them, it's because I’m somebody for them. I can be somebody for them or just nobody. It’s an opposing standpoint that you’d want to be nobody but you’d also want to be somebody to everyone.
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