Alone

A being is nothing until it is met by the world. Alone you are no one. No DNA, no personality matters. And no impressions from elsewhere can reach you and form you. Alone you are forced to repress everything and forget your existence, or instead you will reach into your own self, and try to find the missing pieces. But what pieces are there to find? And who will care for the found wisdom of a mute man? Your prison from reality, your pink cloud with rainbow-colored mushrooms. How will you find your way out of a dream? The iron locks hanging heavy, locking the doors to your mind and keeping sanity on a safe length far aloft. You are floating but not for long. Panic awaits you. Hate for your own self awaits you. Because hate is part of human mind, and who can stay in a crowded room forever without meeting everyone? Every day you lie to yourself, thinking that you have just found the truth. Believing you are suddenly strong enough. Even though you have not let any change appear. Because how can change take place in an atmosphere if you do not let in and out any air? Living in no world, breeding no nothing. Repressed from impressions, molded shut by broken thoughts. Here you are staying. Not because you want to, but because the world does not interact with you. You have forgotten have to let it.