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YOU – Why am I like a seagull?

ENDURANCE – Think about the seagull’s story. It’s one of endurance — and adaptation. The seaside was paradise once. They were birds of that paradise.

ENDURANCE – Then their paradise became *shit city*. And what did they do? They became urban survivors! Eating burgers out of trash cans! Killing and eating pigeons!

ENDURANCE – No time for that sentimental bullshit. They’re hustlers, getting shit done. They’re one pair of track pants away from gangsters. Just like you.

YOU – But I’m not like that! I’m still romantic.

ENDURANCE – Sure, *inside*. But outside it’s a tough world. You’ve got to do whatever it takes to survive. And you *do*. Question is: will you admit that to yourself?

YOU – Okay… well, let me re-consider.

ENDURANCE – Good boy.

YOU – I guess I *am* a bit like the seagull.

ENDURANCE – Exactly. The seagull does what it takes — and so do you. You’ve got that same spirit in you. When the time comes, you’ll push yourself.

I have inattentive type ADHD. There’s a lot I might mean to do in a day that falls by the wayside. Staying focused on any singular task for an extended period of time is a struggle. These difficulties compound and collect interest. It started off small, I’d struggle with homework or doing chores on time. Then one day I woke up and found that the world moved on without me. Friends got degrees, started careers, got married, bought houses. And I stayed small, working small jobs doing small things that don’t matter so much if I screw up. It makes me too sad when people are mad at me.

People have called me lazy, a bad worker, undisciplined, unserious. What they don’t see is the toll existing takes on someone like me. Not that I expect them too. If they wanted to understand, they would. If they just want to disparage me, well that’s on them. I don’t claim that burden. I couldn’t if I wanted to.

Tonight I wrote 1042 words for my novel, and they were good words, some of the best I’ve penned to date. I’m getting better, I am honing a craft. I am the seagull, maligned by the prettier birds, spat upon by the public, chased away from open garbage piles and shot at near airports. But I survive.