Thursday, March 24, 2011

An Empty Grave

Life is easy when everyone else is a ghost. You make your way through crowds as if you’re slipping through a graveyard. You don’t particularly care about what someone else thinks about your appearance or how you act, because, in the end, their opinion doesn’t matter. You just make your way through life, taking care of what needs to be done while the rest of humanity goes about their “work”.

You’re all ghosts. I don’t remember the last time I really saw another person living. Everyone seems trapped in their clockwork lives, moving to the beat of someone else’s drum. We’ve turned our society into one of nameless faces, where we’re all the same homogenous sludge to be ignored and trod over in an attempt to turn ourselves into something more. All these people, wrapped up inside this culture, incapable of seeing the potential for uniqueness, for art, for advancement in themselves and others.

I’ve gotten used to it. I’ve decided to pick up the slack, to express myself and be sociable for all the others who allow themselves to become just another one in the crowd. It always amuses me to watch the way the face of the cashier, the waitress, the doctor glows when I show genuine interest in holding a conversation with them. We forget workers are people too. It amuses me even more when I get looked at strangely for the way I dress, the way I present myself - the way I stand out from the crowd as something more than a ghost: a human. I’m something real, something unique. I am a light shining in the evergrowing darkness.

All of this is enough to make even me a little depressed. But sometimes, some days, I'll find a ghost and I can see the burning desire inside to become human. All these ghosts need is a gentle push, and something to fan the flames.

"Well, aren't you just all lost in thought? Care to share?"

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