Awkward Allegory

He had an unfortunate affinity for metal.

Oh, it wasn't as if he wanted it--he'd just been born that way. Metallic things were attracted to him. It was as if there were a thousand tiny magnets beckoning under his skin, a homing beacon for lost bits of metal. He never asked for it--it just happened. But he thought the pieces were unique and beautiful in their own way. and for the longest time, he didn't realize how different he was.

As he got older, he began to notice that there weren't very many people who walked around with shiny bits and pieces hanging from their arms. At first, he felt a little special, and proud that he was different from all but a few other individuals. People complimented him on his ability to carry around so many pieces of metal. The problem was that, while they all said how good he was to do so, nobody ever offered to take some of it off and carry it themselves. They always looked relieved as they walked away, leaving him alone with his metal.

And he got tired of carrying the full weight of the metal pieces. They were heavy, and they took time and effort to work around. At the end of especially long and crowded days, he was exhausted by dragging them after him. However, when he tried to get rid of them, to separate them from himself and become his own person, it was a painful process, and they invariably found their way back.

So he walked around with all of these shiny metal pieces hugging his skin. Now, when people would look at them and say, "How nice!", he just gritted his teeth and wished with all of his heart that things were different.