I am gone.
Vanished if you will.
A ghost wandering its cemetery.
The afterlife is lonely,
Empty.
Boring and dark.
Every now and then I’ll see people walk by,
But when I call out I receive no answer.
It’s not as if I should wonder why,
as I am dead.
Living people don’t see dead people.

Sometimes I see ones who will stare at the graves scattered in this solemn field.
I can’t help but wonder what they see,
Can they see me or can they not?
I can’t ask them.

The living walk through this new place I call my home and weep.
It confuses me.

It rains often in this area.
Even though I have no skin or sense of feeling,
It itches.
I want to be able to feel those cold drops of water on my face again.
It’s strange not to.

My hands are white,
So is my face.
Or I think it is anyway.
I can’t see my reflection anymore.
I look down at what used to be my feet,
Now just a grey and white misty fade from my waist down.

I miss my body.
But then again,
I chose to discard it.

Sometimes I can’t tell if numbness is a gift or curse. When you feel nothing people will call you lucky or similar things but others will call you inhuman, or heartless. You don’t understand why, so you’ll never know what’s wrong with you. You understand your own thought process but no one else does. Or really, no one else can. It doesn’t hurt so you debate whether it should or not. These debates over ‚deciding‘ what you ‚should or should not feel’ will ultimately have an end— a logically and strategically thought out result. These results build a personality for you to use at will. After a while you don’t even know of you can or can’t feel. Either way you won’t win, so choose.

Are you okay?
Yes, I’m fine.
Are you really?
No.
Why didn’t you say that before?
Why would I?
You can tell someone when you don’t feel okay.
No I can’t.
Why?
No one really listens. They only want to act like they do and then ask if I want a hug. No one tries.
They do.
They don’t. Some tell me I’m selfish, or call me attention seeking to my own friends behind my back: the ones I trusted with my own emotions.
You’re just paranoid.
When I had issues a friend yelled at me, accusing me of faking them for attention. They didn’t want to help, nor did I really want any at the time. I didn’t want be yelled at though either. I’d have preferred they just stayed quiet.
You’re being dramatic.
I tried to look completely fine but it made me feel guilty and sick.
Oh shut up. You know some people have real problems right? Stop acting like you’re really that hurt.
…
Are you okay?
Yes, I’m fine.
Are you really?
Yes.
Okay.

Everyone is an alien, a creature, a thing. No one would say it’s true, but it just is and that’s fact. We consider what does not look like us, act like us, or sound like us as the term ‚alien‘. But to those ‚aliens‘ we are also the same. We simply gave ourselves what is now the name ‚Humans‘ because it sounds much more sophisticated than ‚thing‘ ‚being‘ or ‚creature‘, said so much that it’s only natural now. Through the eyes of another being, we are not humans. We are aliens. Identity is created by the being, not by nature.

Nothing can ever be ‚real‘ or ‚true‘. Neither can it be ‚false‘. Perspectives offer no limits, but so many exist that such an amount cannot be taken into accurate representation or account. For one person something may be good, their statement seems true to them. Another may say something is bad, which is also true to them. The first person views the second‘s as false, and the second views the first’s as false. Opinion based true or false, real or unreal, will never be accurate unless put to an average, which is almost impossible given the amount of people on our Earth and their circumstances.

“Some birds were never meant to be in cages, never meant to be controlled by another. Eventually, it killed them. Their colour was stripped from their feathers, looking all the same, with broken voices, acting all the same.”

“‘Walk in a straight line.’ ‘Copy this.‘ ‘Always do this, but never this.’ 'If you want to do well you must do this.’ Let the dictators chant on and the mindless fools follow. Let them all turn out the same— stripped of their individuality by force fed influence. I couldn’t care less. Focus on yourself— what you do best. If you can do this simple task, you will go places they have never even dared to imagine, constantly fearing what has been taught right and wrong.”