Outline

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  • Published: 28 May 2014
  • Updated: 28 May 2014
  • Status: Complete

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1. Alright then

I used to screw my face up against the mirror. There was not much to look at. Some new freckles on my nose, but I saw just the same as always. Which was the reason I just stopped looking.

Why do nothing ever change? Why is everything we do so boring and why is everything we want so little? We are just nothing in this big, black world. We are simply just a freckle on a nose somewhere in the world. We are nothing special and we are nothing anybody would care to notice. We are outlines of something we do not even know what is. A drawing of a black room. A room so dark, that no one notices the blood on the wall or the words written with rotten fingernails on the floor. A drawing of something no one want to have anything to do with. And a drawing that never gets finished, because no one really cares. Too boring. Too ordinary. Too easy.

Well, life isn't easy. But no one used to tell us that, because nobody ever cared. Nobody ever cared enough about the hands on the wall or the words on the ground. We were absolutely nothing. We exist to talk and listen and touch and breathe, but we do not exist only to hurt. Then, can you tell me, why so many people hurt? Why so many people hurt, but do not breathe, do not touch, do not talk nor listen?

Why are we so many people who feel like frantic birds trapped in this existence? Why is there no one on the other side of the cage, who can free our souls before we rend our own plumage? We are so many people but still we are all alone. Together we stand as lonely as never before. This is a war, which we will never be able to win. Why should we? It will not make life good for us and it will not change anything. The whole world exist only in the why's and the only answer ever good enough, is "why not?"

Why not jump out of from behind those shields that have been barricading our view? Why not stand up and fight for what we believe we are and what we want to be? Why not show the whole world that we are not just freckles and that we do not have birds in or hearts nor spikes in our shoes? We must fight to be something and we must fight to let them become nothing. The people who tormented us. The people who cast us away like we were nothing. The people who did not care about us. Only we care. Only you care about yourself. We want to care, but why should we?

Well, why not?

We all stopped looking in the mirror when we saw blood on our hands. We knew we were ready to fight when we threw the mirror against the wall and we wrecked our heads and we wrecked our hands, but did not care. We had no longer a reason to look at ourselves. We only needed to look at each other and see the nails in other peoples hearts and the pain in their eyes. But there were nothing we could do. Why and why not?

We had no reason at all anymore.

By time we learned to cope. We no longer had any why's and therefore no reason to say why not. We helped wreck each others cages, and we saw the birds fly away from our insides and we helped repair each others hearts and heads, and hands and feet. The black room with the walls covered in blood and the floor covered in words are no longer needed. What should we use that for, when we no longer have any wild birds inside our souls? We removed the nails and we covered the freckles. "Alright then," we said and walked away. We learned and we learned, but we never fought and they never hurt. We were all outlines now. None of us were full drawn, because we felt to much to be put in paper. And none of them were full drawn, because they didn't feel enough at all. We were all outlines and as time passed by we just learned to cope and everything became alright in the end.

But we no longer have mirrors. There is no need for that. When the mirror comes back, we will stand for fight again and we will be all covered in blood. Which is the reason why we do not want any mirrors. Nobody want to fight and nobody want to feel anymore pain than what we have endured. And we live with that. But somehow someday the birds will nest themselves inside us again and we will all start from scratch with being nothing but a freckle on the nose or a star in the big universe or a snowflake in a white land.

And if I were a bird I would fly away. And people would watch my outline fade away on the great grey sky. And people would go back to not caring at all. And I could just become a freckle on the nose again. An outline of a drawing. Just like we all are now. Just outlines. Nothing more.

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