Author’s Note-About 10 years ago I started creating a character in my thoughts named, Sir Real.  He was bizarre-surreal on the surface but deep down he was authentic and trying to find out who he really was.  I am sharing one of my short stories about Sir Real on my blog.

Sir Real Walks Into a Room

He was a small man who appeared 6 feet tall.  When he walked in the room, all eyes were upon him.  His presence made everyone look.  He hated this.  He wore black, and a hat was always on his head.  The hat made him feel like he was hiding from their gaze.  He didn’t realize that the cap set him apart from everyone.  Not everyone can get away with wearing a hat. 

Who was he?  Why did they all want to talk to him?

What was it about Sir Real?

He was ordinary, or so he thought.  Unremarkable.  He was born into a typical family.  Traditional. Routine. Standard. He didn’t have any talents.  He was, on the surface, a friendly person, but people wore him out.  Exhausted him. 

But, there was something about being with people and connecting with them that allured Sir Real.  The problem was when he entered their presence, the presence of people, he put on his mask.  Correction.  He didn’t put on the mask; a reflexive facade of protection covered him. 

He became the life of the party.  The teller of stories. He felt his place was to entertain and to make others laugh. Not just smile, but to laugh.  He was infused with energy. Sir Real wasn’t a teller of stories, but a teller of truth.

When he was finished he was spent.  Depleted.

Sir Real thought he knew who he was, but as he got older, he began to question himself.  His life.  His purpose.  As he was growing up, he thought he was supposed to entertain others and give them what they wanted or what they needed.  A good laugh or a good story to make them feel good.  As he aged, he began to realize that his strong personality was what he hated the most.  He didn’t want to be that person.  Others told him to “just be yourself, just be who you are.”  He wasn’t quite sure if he knew who he was.  One day he put on a colored shirt which complimented his tanned skin.  He quickly took it off.  “Color will bring more attention to me,” he thought. 

He didn’t want that attention.  He wanted attention on his terms. 

When he walked into a room people would smile.  They would remark, “Sir Real, where do you get all of your energy?”  Sir Real was known as an over the top bizarre character, but Sir Real was one of the most authentic people one would hope to meet.  He was loyal.  He paid attention to people.  He listened, even when they thought he wasn’t listening.  He heard everything they were saying.  Perhaps that is why Sir Real had to take a break from people.  Sometimes what they are saying is not meant for the ears of a veritable shrinking persona.