I am sitting in a room full of people. In my thoughts I am alone. I am looking up at a blank projection screen as I sit in the corner. Beneath the screen is a container of trash on the verge of overflowing.

How much like the world this picture is?

The world its’ self is a blank colorless screen, emotionless and cold, and if you look beneath its screen all you find is a container overflowing with trash.

However if you happen to look even closer and off to the corner a little you might find something special, not blank, emotionless, or cold. Not trashy but special, different.

I know I am there in the corner but Am I alone? There are others with me. Creatures of color, emotion, and warmth. Those people might clean up the trash if it were not more populous than they were. They might fill the screen with love and truth, If it were not draped so tightly, suffocating them.

I do not know all their names or how few they are. With so much trash and blank faces even with love right beside me, I feel utterly alone.

I am being buried by the trash of people’s minds. Suffocated by their unemotional existence.

There is death in their zombie-like stares. I wish I could say they weren’t real but they are.

Truly as dead as the projection screen and overflowing trash container.

It saddens me to think they were once alive, as the screen and trash once lived. Blossoming and budding as trees full of life, until they were cut down and forced into a mold. Forced to be unnatural as they were never meant to be, As too many people have been.

I struggle myself to resist the bloody ax of those living dead things who would mold me into nothingness. I will not be a blank screen waiting to be projected upon. I will not be as the discarded trash that this world has been built upon.

You who pretend to live, You are nothing. You know no love. Or are you special? Do you hear the world screaming, feel its tremor as it suffocates under the trash of dead minds? Are you different, Like the one in the corner?