Well, it’s a few things; an ambulance trip to hospital. A concussion. Two terrified grandparents. A police investigation. A newspaper article. Oh yeah, people also get worried if you start to talk about visions and ghosts and strange heroes who return from the dead. They’ll do anything you want then.

Now, the teen in exile returns. So what’s the price of redemption? What’s the mark of a hero? How do we beat fear and bad loyalties? How do we get our happy ending?

This is all I got to say… We need to be brave enough to have faith. Brave enough to stand up for it. Brave enough to stand up for what is right. No matter how afraid we are we have to keep going. We need to be true to what is good and loving. Always… but don’t take my word for it, I got a bad tattoo, was beaten up by some goons in face paint and had my life saved by a teenage girl.

So to my friends and foes in this small town I say goodbye. To my mates back home, I’ll see you soon. And to my strange Captain and his Scarlet Company I swear my undying loyalty…

James the Brave and True.

So what does it mean to be true? Well, being true is… Being committed. Faithful. Sticking it out. Standing up. Saying no. No matter what. Being true is a question of trust. A question of identity. You gotta be true to someone, something. To be true is a question of loyalty.

So who you gonna trust? Who you gonna be? Who do you obey? Parents? Teachers? Friends? TV? Teenage hormones? The Bible?

Everyone wants you to be a member or a customer or a user or a fan or a follower. From your shoes to your underwear to your phone—how many names are you wearing right now? Everyone wants you to accept a label. Fit in their box.

My grandma always says that a great poet once wrote;

‘You’re gonna have to serve somebody

Yes indeed, you’re gonna have to serve somebody

It may be the devil, it may be the Lord

But you gonna have to serve somebody.’

Our loyalty must lie somewhere. We gotta belong. Pick a side. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Good guys, bad guys. I guess we just have to choose…

James

Waking up with a spider on your face in the night? Someone posting nude photos of you on Facebook? Close your eyes and imagine absolute darkness… what comes out of it to get you?

Think about your deepest, darkest, most secret worst fear… Is that really what you’re afraid of? What about fascism? Terrorist attacks? Disease? Natural disasters? Genocide? Do we even worry about that stuff?

Sometimes I think we need to get better fears. We need to be afraid of the things in life that actually matter. We need to stop being afraid of the bad stuff that might happen, and start to stop the bad stuff that does happen. We need the bravery to act.

What is bravery? Well, being brave is… A good choice at a bad time. Acting in spite of fear. Being afraid of doing something but doing it anyway. Being a hero. To be brave is to risk. To risk discomfort. To risk change. Pain. Death? Bravery will always cost you something.

It wouldn’t be worth anything if it didn’t cost you…

James

You know, the dream where you are falling—it feels like you’re gonna puke, your heart is thumping in your chest, then you wake up just as you’re gonna hit the ground?

What about the one where you’re at school, then all of a sudden you’re naked? Haven’t had that one? Must just be me then…

Have you ever remembered a dream long after you’ve forgotten it? Sometimes you’ll be thinking about something, then all of a sudden, bang, you are remembering a dream that you had years ago. How does that happen? An old imagined moment, long lost in daylight, coming to mind…

Have you ever had a dream that left a certain feeling with you long after it passed? Embarrassment? Fear? Love?

Once I dreamed I was in love with this girl I used to know (she shall remain nameless). Now, I sat next to this girl in the first year of high school. She was alright, I liked her enough, but she wasn’t the love of my life. But in this dream we were hanging out again and talking and having fun. We were in love.

Then, that morning when I woke up, I loved her. Really. I was in love. The feeling lasted a whole day. It was nuts. I couldn’t think straight. Then it passed and I realized—a dream can seem more real than everyday life. Dreams can change us, at least a little. Dreams stay with us.

Dreams are the new real.

James

Wise words? I dunno.

Shakespeare also wrote in Hamlet “In filial obligation for some term to do obsequious condolement is a course of impious stubbornness…” and that sounds like absolute nonsense to me so I’m not taking his word for it. I especially wouldn’t take any advice from Hamlet; everyone in that play ends up dead.

You see, Hamlet is a tragedy—a story with an unhappy ending. We’ve all seen them or at least we have to read them in English class. You know, Emo and Juliet, falling in love and killing themselves. Or Macbeth, taking advice from evil witches and ending up with his head on a spike. I could never figure out why we read tragedies at school. Don’t we have enough of that in the real world?

When people suffer and die on stage, we call it tragedy. When people suffer and die in real life, we call it ‘the news’. It’s like we’re just used to bad things happening, even to the point where we watch it for fun. Horror movies. Break-ups. Sad love songs. Soap-operas. Reality TV… Tragedy for entertainment.

Racial hate. Abuse. Poor people being overlooked. Chemical warfare. Human rights abuses. Big companies polluting the environment. Abandoned children… Tragedy for real.

Broken promises. Broken people. Broken bones. Broken families. Broken hearts. Why do they happen?

I have this theory that all the suffering in the world comes down to two things, Fear and Loyalty. People are afraid to do the right thing and people are loyal to the wrong things.

Billions of us; Afraid to stand up to bullies. Afraid to give anything up. Afraid to risk pain. Afraid to make a stand. Loyal to violent people. Loyal to political systems. Loyal to ourselves. Loyal to money. Fear and Loyalty…

I’m sick of tragedies. I wanna hero. I want a man, bold and defiant, to come walking out of the smoke and declare war on everyone and everything that enslaves. I want to see just one man powerful and good who can take this broken world and turn it the right way up. I want to see change. I wanna believe in something.

I dream of a man brave and true…

James

So you’d say tattoos are cool right?

Maybe. You know how you get that Tetanus shot in year 9 at school? That’s right, picture it—the needle pricking your skin, the stinging as it slides into your arm. Getting a tattoo is kinda like having that shot, except about one hundred times a second, over and over again for ages and ages as permanent ink is pumped into the bleeding wound that was once your arm. You think that hurts. Wait until your parents find out…

My final report card for the year wasn’t good. I knew Mum would freak out. I left it at home, turned my phone off and caught a tram into the city. I met some friends and we headed down to the beach. We haunted the strip along the beachfront. My skin burned in the setting sun. Then, we went back to a mate’s house. There was the wrong crowd. There was some cheap beer. There was a guy who knew a guy who owned a tattoo parlour. One hour later we climbed out of a car and hung our hands in our pockets trying to look tough as some of the older guys got flaming playing cards and pirate ships inked on their arms. We were there for hours. I knew my mum would be wondering where I was. My phone was off. I didn’t know the time. I had a headache. I wanted to go but I had no ride home. Then, they all turned and looked to me.

“You not scared are you? Are you one of us or not?”

Peer pressure cliché. I woke up the next morning ill, tired and in a lot of pain, not to mention the fury of the disappointed parent. So now I’m here—sent from the big city where I live to a small town to spend my summer holidays with my grandparents. Punished. Disgraced. A teen in exile.

So, I pull my phone from my pocket. No messages. No missed calls. Is anyone out there? I spin my phone in my hand over and over waiting for it to do something. Maybe I could call my mates.

Hey guys if you’re reading this give me a call. S.O.S.

Maybe I should call my mum. Apologise and try and get outta here somehow. Either way, a plan is forming. A great escape? I dunno. Do the crime and do the time right? Sorry Mum…

So why’d I do it? Why’d I screw up school and get a bad tattoo? I dunno. Maybe I’m showing my anger at my dad for walking out on us. Maybe I’m ADD or ADHD or ADHDSDWWJD. Maybe it’s just the kinda thing I do. No, those are just easy excuses.

You know why I messed everything up this year? Do you really wanna know?

Here’s the confession: Everyone wants us to be afraid and everyone wants us to follow orders.

Well, think about it… Warning. Danger. Keep Out. Caution…. Everyday. Sometimes it feels like we should be afraid of everything and everyone. Don’t touch. Watch out… Everyone wants us to be afraid.

or

Do this. Do that. Parents. Teachers. Politicians. Infomercials. All the time. Don’t. Do… Everyone wants you to do something or be someone. Be like us. Obey… Everyone wants your loyalty.

I’m sick of it. I want to do anything and everything. I want everyone to stop talking down to me. I wanna stop taking orders. I want everyone to know who is in charge. I want to do whatever I want to do and I want everyone to stop asking me about it. I want to be fearless. Unstoppable. I want to bow to no one and do everything my own way… Teenage rebellion 2.0.

Sounds gutsy, but maybe there’s a price to pay? Maybe there’s a cost? Maybe I should listen carefully to the advice everyone gives? Maybe I should make mature and rational decisions? Maybe, maybe, maybe. Whatever. For better or worse, I can feel the permanent consequences of my actions, scabbed and aching on my swollen right arm…

James