I feel as if my shaking legs are but a fragile branch hanging from a dead tree in a harsh, sticky, summer’s rain.

The sweat from my brow is mixing with the salty tears that fill my eyes as I watch the world around me, oblivious to my existence.

They are rushing around doing the same monotonous tasks they did the day before.

They have no clue I even continue living, and why would they care? I’m not special.

No one is. We are all plagued with the disease called humanity.

It is an incurable disease that only results in doubt, fear, and the unavoidable reality that we are all exactly the same as the people around us, but the truth is, it is a fake epidemic.

We are all convinced that we are just like everyone around us, but inside we hide a tiny pool of kerosene disguised as potential, and all we need is an infinitesimal spark to ignite the ever gleaming flame of passion within our soul.

I am the cure; I am individuality.




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