The AntiChild
by Ryan P. Kinney

Happy Birthday, my AntiChild.
What will be my gift to you?
Life.
A random slice of all that came before you.
With the wisdom of a madman.

I will twist, and shape, and encourage,
Oh yes, you will be corrupted.
I will teach you,
That the world is not as you’ve been told.

I will tell you,
What it means to be a man,
And a woman.
And the difference is all in your head

No one is right or wrong.
Only what’s right for you.
Adults lie.
Juvenile records are not permanent.
Kids were made for fun.

While we’re at it…
Santa Claus is a zombie,
The Easter Bunny is a mutant,
Unicorns are a government conspiracy…

Then I will tell you,
I could be lying.
But, think for yourself.
I bet you could come up with a better story.
And, know,
That the sanest man in the room is probably the most insane.

Life will hurt,
And often ****.
But don’t give up.
Women will break your heart.
Growing up is a sin,
But, be responsible for yourself.

Never take anything too seriously,
And do everything with absolute sincerity.
Question everything.
Take nothing for granted.
Seek the answers yourself.
Answer Who am I?
Then go out with Nerf guns blazing.

I will teach you to create,
To turn garbage into gold.
To give your thoughts form.
And your hands their due.
To see potential and possibility,
Where others only see trash and hopelessness.
Everything is art.

You will write on paper bags,
And doodle on receipts.
Grab the nearest object,
And give way to your soul.

My little taint will ensure,
That your thoughts MUST bolt
With the spasmodic urgency of adolescence.
Or you WILL combust.
And sometimes,
I will tell you to do just that.

Life will be your creation.
Therein lies the truest art.
The finest work of man,
Is to make something out of themselves.

Why, the AntiChild?
Because you will be the antithesis of every other kid,
You will be better,
You are our legacy.
A universe of your own making awaits you.
Built on a family of love, life, experience…
And more than a few comic books.