The Lost Ones

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The best form of defence is offence, isn’t that what they say?

Feeling like I’m drowning in a mire of banality and mediocrity, I grasp at any lifeline; any way to maintain my sanity.

Walking through the crowded streets, I am alone in my own thoughts. I cannot connect to the world around me. My social synapsis have been severed, that’s if they were ever there to begin with. I’ve resigned myself to being an outcast.

Some seek to self-harm, uncomfortable with their place in society, but me, I embrace it. I dye my hair and fly the freak flag.

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