Each spec falls as important as the other, able to disrupt and cleanse all at once with impunity and without a care- caressing and constraining. As our words, they layer to create and affect – changing meaning from one to another, surfaces of pure intention masking a sub text of hidden agenda.

Weather or not, whether it is, semantics disguise the lack of care we often take.

I stare out, choosing to believe it to be my excuse and curl up inside, listening to the voice of apathy and anxiety as it covers me, while suffocating the side of me intimidated by the cynical interpretation of positivity force fed by media. And by media we now mean people, because we’re all the media and we all create the narratives. Journalists of our own world, projecting our own stories to spawn a new nothing in the new normal. Hated and suspected but craved like opium to anyone who wants a genuine smile.

How fake is this falling purity? How cold must we be to think beauty isn’t always hiding such horror.

It’s time to stop staring outwards to stay inside, hearing the whispers, and begin to look outwards to keep us separate from the stifling tracks we lean back into for misguided comfort.

It’s time to get up.

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