I am a rebel by nature. Not that much of a rebel, if I think of all the rebels I’ve heard of, but a rebel, still. And as a self-proclaimed rebel, I think that a rebel would be a rebel whether or not he had something to rebel against. It’s in our nature to reject some part of the world we live in. We look for causes, for things to call right, for dreams and visions worth fighting for. We could invent them, if necessary. The important thing is having something seemingly bigger than ourselves to fight for.

Sometimes I believe that the things I want to fight for are the most important things in the world, but most times I know they’re not. Not to other people, not to me, not to the world itself. And if I had to fight for my self enough, I wouldn’t care enough or have the energy to fight for anything else. The truth is that we’re happy enough of the time, and we’re all fine. The world’s fine. I’m fine. It’s likely that I’ll always be fine.

This however, is not enough. I’m not fine with being fine all the time. Fine is okay, fine is fine, but fine does not satisfy me. Fine doesn’t go with the rebel in me. I can give you a few dozen reasons why it’s not right to settle for fine even though the ups and downs I’ll win by fighting may never sum up to the same level, but they’re not important. What is important is that being me keeps me happy most of the time. And it just wouldn’t be me to settle for fine. Hence, I must rebel.