I walk in the land of Shadows, where faces of people are but masks, and their personalities are but a distorted version of who they are. Their robotic bodies of flesh and bone walk with a destination of human doom. Their eyes seem as cold as ice with a look devoid of color and wonder.

I am scared because I know I am walking in the opposite direction. My features stand out. My eyes are filled with fear and concern. My face has a touch of color to it. Everybody else looks grey…almost dead. They seem to willingly have a foot in their self-dug graves, and another on the living lands. However, they look quite indifferent to this fact. To them, I’m the one in that inevitable situation.

Maybe I am. Most of the times, I feel as if I’m being watched. Their stares are penetrating into my very being like sharp knives. It feels inhuman. It is merciless. What keeps me confident is but one fact, I breathe for myself. I don’t suffer from the diseases of a devastating societal pressure of perfection. I doubted they felt anything, therefore, I had not a single idea if they felt what I accused them of.

I think not. For they walk still in a direction of absolute devotion to a system that asks them to sell their souls in return for an illusionary image of perfection. As I stand I see them passing by me, not seeing me. They smile to each other, great each other, but I could see the emptiness of their affections, and the reality behind their conversation.

Everywhere I turn, I am haunted by them. I am haunted by the image of alleys, open streets, homes, yards, everywhere, anywhere, all lands of the dead- of their graves, their bodies, their souls. I did not know how they could be so cold, and so ignorant about this reality.

They walked on.

Willingly, they walked on.


I was left alone. Tortured by these images. Chased over and over by their suspicion of what I could be, even when they over looked my existence.

I kept walking. Through the land of Shadows, I kept walking. Their shadows. The shadows of who they aren’t, and of whom they will never be. Shadows of who they once were.

They walked on. Indifferent.

While I… I kept walking, I couldn’t reach put to them. I couldn’t speak to them. I was…alone. Thrown out, for I knew, I did not belong, and it felt good to be sure, I never will.