The outcast feeling of being rejected in general, the hurt it brings and how it is enlarged under the electron microscopes of our anti-social media. If only the Mark Zuckerbergs and Ev Williams's of this age would give something real and of truth ba...
To belong is a verb, a verbal construction which in this case is built on having to work it. I'm gonna be long nosed and mocked, laughed at neglected. I don't care, do what you like; once more show me. I'm the outcast, the banished, no longer allowed to play. I've been there before. It hurt and still hurts to the bone, when I push ever so slightly the buttons of this keyboard. Of course it's my ego. However my eyes and ears don't notice any for giving. So, why the hell should I once more fall on my already battered and bruised knees and scars. I won't comply, nor will I repent any longer for a fake world and its etiquette of the hungry. I don't need to be fed any longer with the venom of look at me. I don't inter act, block your gut from my life, so now I can finally start living the life of my own making. Without all the lies of what is called the social communication by publication or broadcast. No more book of empty faces, nor instant gratification. For a twittering I'll go outside. I won't work this treadmill of illusions. The only thing I hope, is to reach other souls who feel just as outcast to belong to this world.
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