After taking an opportunity to escape the life that plagued the main character with isolation and frustration, the person leaves the current world that he is in through a wormhole, a portal per say, back to the supposed real world. Not knowing the c...
I had a friend. Oh, they were a good friend alright. They provided me with life, space to thrive, all the possibilities that one could wish for. They cared for me. We looked after each other. A friend named after the world itself. They were only a friend that casted me away to an isolated place, forced my people to build upon the ashes and ruins of what was once used. It was beautiful to live every single day without an identity, to look the same as everyone else, to act the same as everyone else.
Sometimes I wish that I wasn't a descendant of what went wrong. Maybe I could live in a world of variety. Maybe I could be who I wanted to be. Maybe I can have a name. Maybe I'll be able to do whatever they call 'speaking'.
Who am I, exactly? I'm something that's even more detached from the dysfunctional society that I'm supposed to reside in. I wonder how that's even considered possible. Those things believe that I'm a threat to them, a hazard, a menace. How so? Are my projections too fuzzy? Is there aggression in every sound that I force? Do I rebel against the fragile system that they consider as their world?
No, I don't deserve this. Perhaps my opinion isn't valid in this predicament. I'm in the presence of a dilemma. What is the worth to even stay?
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Refocus, recollect. I'm sitting at the ledge of a platform, staring into the town below me. The Crossroads, they call it. Something's awfully skeptic about how they would bother to name a place, but not the inhabitants there. All the homes were lined up in a formation as if they were soldiers in a military. Small blocks of property, but nearly as cold and draining as the rest of the area, just like them.
Above the land, the sky was bleeding again. A gash in the atmosphere would open, as the void through it would glisten with stars. The sky would bleed objects, the things that no one uses anymore. Outdated, forgotten, removed. We were all told to stay away from The Scavenging Point, a place where all of the removed would be dropped off. Only a select few would bring back what was useful out of the pile of junk. They always remind us to avoid The Sky's Wound specifically, as it was a one-way wormhole that was supposedly connected to nowhere. That is not true. That can't be true. It has to connect to the real world. The world that no one wants us in. I'm sure it isn't one-way either.
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