we are who we are

we are who we are

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Feb 3, 2018
I'm fed up. I'm fed up of being seen as an outcast, as a freak, a weirdo,a criminal, a murderer. Im fed up of just being seen as another mutant. Another circus act to rid the world of innocent people. No one else sees that we are merely players. Pieces in this fucked up game of chess. It's either we win or die trying, and believe me i've tried. I've fought my way to the end, but every god damn time i think its over. There's another asshole to fuck everything up, another prick who thinks they're right. Well i'm done. The company that you've heard about - Sentinel Setvices- they're the reason we live in the shadows. They're the reason I'm taped in here and not out there, with the rest of my people fighting. They have blinded the human race and brainwashed them to believe we are the enemies. We will rise against them and when we do we will restore the peace. Power, people, persistence. My name is Emeswaler Voultoures. But most people call me Volt.
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A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.

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