I'm on the outside looking in, staring through the glass with both hands breaking through. Nothing is what it seems, illusions of a rose-colored life. They are smiling, they are laughing, they are the beautiful people we've always strived to be. But the light that really bathes then lacks a pulse; it is dark and cold like snowless solstice nights. What we don't realize is that they're looking out at us, wishing for the skies and abnormality that we take for granted.