Waking up is like having a blindfold removed, but instead of finding yourself in a comfy bed or even a mediocre used bed with stains that you hope are tea or coffee, you find yourself in a room much like a an open pit classroom. You are shuffled down the aisle closer to the center. While confusing at first, you see many others much like you just following the line. As you get closer you hear screaming. It sounds dull at first, but as you get closer you see all of them lined up. Small children screaming. The line is walked by adults with sticks and they strike them to hear them scream. The turn and look at each other like they are trying to reach consensus. They are tuning them. They shuffle them in line the way they want and as you get closer you begin to hear the harmonization. The bright red marks on their arms with their little clenched fists. They get them exactly the way they want and escort them off. You realize that you are next in line.
You nervously look around to see if anyone else is going to protest. Why aren’t you? Why are you just standing there? You do nothing. This is fear of non-conformity.
As soon as they strike your arms you screech out in pain. It burns so badly you clench your fists too and close your eyes so hard to make it go away. When you open them up you find yourself in a parking lot. It smells of fresh oil and you can feel the heat radiate off of it. The smell is toxic and makes you sick to your stomach. For the oddest reason, you find yourself wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve cotton shirt. Why did you choose this? You feel the sweat drip down your arms and each bead weighs your long sleeve down. It isn’t a desert and you are not lost you know exactly where you are and you feel alone. You search the lot for anything, used bottle of water, a small pool of storm water, but it is useless because there is no respite. You curse and rant hoping for someone to hear you but no one does. They only thing you can do is give up. You stare up directly at the sun and it burns your skin and your eyes hurt. Your eyes begin to feel like grapes being squeezed until they burst. You eventually collapse.This is how anger feels as it drains you.
You pass out for who knows how long. When you wake up you feel cold and find yourself curled up in a dug pit of dry dirt. Is it a shallow grave? There is a cool mist and it feels nice at first but it gets denser and it is harder to breathe. You see others pass you by and wonder where they are going, but you don’t have the courage to ask them let alone ask to join them. The mist collects on your skin and the dirt cakes on. Any attempt to brush it off rubs it in more and you become more dirt than human. As you move about you pieces of dirt, of you, crumble off and fall to the ground. You watch yourself collapse and there is nothing you can do. Behind you is a janitor and he walks up to you and begins to sweep your legs into his dust pan. You will be discarded with the rest of the dirt and trash and accept it. This is insecurity.