To society, to civilization, to humanity,
I've been stuck on the same daggered path for so long it became part of me. My head aches stronger each day, still hemming me within my own body as the world passes on. You told me I was free, that I had freedom to think, to speak. Oh how horribly wrong you were, liar, deciever, hypocrite. I was never free to think, to speak, but I was free, to obey. It's all an illusion, and I saw through it. My thoughts were never free, you've painted this picture of how to think, it sickens me. You've taught me your view of how the world works, and expect me to follow it. The moment I even remotely suggest that maybe, just maybe, there could be a different way, you treat me like some sort of animal.
You tell me you don't understand. You liar. You hypocrite. I think beyond this system you've created, this painting you've painted for me after you stole the brush from my hand. So why do you treat me this way when I take the brush back, and paint my own picture? I know now. I won't paint this solid color on the canvas, that's a waste of space. Let me paint, a masterpiece, even if you are too stubborn to try to understand it. Let me paint a landscape, let me paint the stars, something different, even if you tell me that I have a problem with my brain. Funny, really, it is. You, the foolish force standing before me, would equate my art for a mental illness. You call me insane and with each growing second the truth rings clearer in my ear: Sanity is only relative.
~Yours truly, Deathless
