“It’s a dead issue..” A vast abyss rose in the middle of her head; echoing only the painful reminders of harsh words spoken over attempts to question. To analyze. To exterminate the cover hiding the truth. “..don’t wrestle with it.” What was the purpose, she mused , in living in a world where conformity was not only encouraged, but mandatory? Most girls, most boys, most adults were brought up to abide by the rules and at least pretend to understand every aspect of the fake life they lived. Why was she, then, able to read between the lines set before her from birth? How was she able to believe the stories told to her about past life? Closing her eyes, she remembered what her friend Allen had said to her. What he had told her. The truth about the life she was supposed to lead. “It’s all a lie,” he’d said, with a knowing smile. The sun had been shining freely that day. It was nearing graduation, as most of the students her age were all cluttered around the courtyard, discussing their future plans. She’d just begun asking Allen what his plans were. “A lie?” she’d gasped for air. Accusing anyone of lying was an offense; one of distrust and dishonor. Nearly as low as the actual crime itself. “What are you talking about?” “There is nothing. No education. No perfect, happy family life to open arms to. It doesn’t exist. Everyone works for perfect bodies at perfect jobs and return at night to their perfect families, lying happily to every passing generation that asks.” She’d looked away, unable to think of the atrocities her friend was claiming of society. “You’re wrong,” she had whispered. “Wrong?” he’d laughed. “It’s a sad state of affairs. You’re living in a crippled America. If even that much can be said about it.” In disgust she’d left, not wanting to think or talk about what had just been laid in front of her. She’d always heard talk about the past. But it had never been made so clear to her. It had never occurred to her that the things being said were true. Not until that day. Her head lurched forward as she launched herself back into reality. Around her, identically dressed young men and women sat straight up, backs to the seats, eyes focused directly on the professor teaching in the front of the room. The droning voice seemed to mutate and flow into a different set of words, far apart from what was really being said. “Deaf ears are sleeping..” The many voices had resounded in her ears, time and time again, repeating themselves over and over. Like lines in a play. Lights, camera, action! The only part missing is the emotion. Lighten up. Think for yourself. Question authority. Break from the status quo. If only somehow the world would understand her thirst to uncover and to provoke and to break apart. But NO. The majority of the human race were too jaded; too constructed; too scared to question “reality” or walk a different path. Too worried about the consequences to venture into the unknown, and too frightened to listen to anyone’s words except the voice of authority--not even their own. She strained as again, the voices returned. “It’s a cold-hearted world..” | 
