A lot of the time, when I'm alone, I think I can hear people calling my name. When I'm alone, I hear a lot of things. Things other people never notice, and if they did, they wouldn't understand. Don't get me wrong; it's not like I hear the voices of the unquiet dead or some little voice trying to wheedle me into killing my parents. That's some morbid shit, there. I hear real things. Normal things. Things that I've learned to stop pointing out because no one else notices.

I like to sit on the benches at malls. By myself, usually, is better, not that I mind company. But it's easier to hear without some crazed shopper chirping in your ear about how they saved fifteen percent on floor wax. Malls are revolting, filthy little pits perfect for breeding the vermin that adore them so much. Maybe that sounds cynical, but it's true. If you sat on a bench and watched them long enough, you'd understand. I'm thinking now that the reason I notice all these things is because of my point of view. You know? Like when you hang off your bed and notice all these little things on the floor because somebody forgot to vacuum. The higher up you put yourself, the harder it is to notice everything that's wrong because it's all down on the floor. When you're close to the floor, it's plain as day.

I myself like it much better close to the floor.

There are problems with that, of course. One being that people generally can't look past their noses and notice you there, so you get stepped on a lot. Sure, it hurts. But it goes away. People laugh a lot, too. But you get used to it, and pretty fast, though I hear the adjusting takes time if you're used to being so full of yourself that your head brushed the ceiling when you walked. There are a lot of people like that. They're everywhere, and the worst part is, they think they're invincible. Sometimes when I'm closer to the floor than usual, I wish I could stick my leg out and trip them. Watch them fall to the ground and lay there, staring right into my eyes. And I'd smile. Invincibility is just an illusion, just like they are, a veil of makeup and clothes and social status. Behind it all, they're just like me, just like everyone else and too stupid to know it. Everyone trips and falls, everyone makes a fool of themselves, everyone has flaws. Some people are just flaws. Those are the ones who think they're untouchable, invincible, the people who deserve to be tripped so they can see things from a new point of view.

Too bad I can't do it. Maybe it's ethics or moral standards or something. Maybe I'm a coward. Or maybe, and this is quite likely, I'm too intimidated by their power to really do anything but spout off about it when it has me close to the floor again. Their power is also sham, but when a person really believes that they have it, they're dangerous as hell. Just stupid people in large numbers, drunk with desire for acceptance, glory, passion, wealth... Whatever it is.

Why the hell doesn't anyone just want to be happy anymore?

Like I said before, maybe it's just me. Maybe it's just my perspective. Things look different when your face is pressed into the carpet and you're too scared to stand back up and straighten out again. It's a cramped feeling. Sometimes I think about it long enough and realize that it has to be me. It has to. But if it's me, can't someone fix me? Just shut me down, turn me off and do some repairs, and when I wake up I'll be different. Braver, more aggressive, and less of the person I am now. I don't really know if I like the person I am now. Some days I do. Most days I do. But they days that I don't hurt so much that sometimes I forget how to deal with it, and I get so angry I wish I could kill something.

Is it my fault I am the way I am? Most people blame society. Should I? Or should I blame me? If this is something I did to myself, it wouldn't be fair to shuttle the blame off to somebody else. But I don't know which is which lately. Down is up, wrong is right, darkness has become day and I'm too backward to know the difference.

But I know what I want. I want someone to fix me. That's the only thing I know for sure lately.

So.

Will you fix me?