Awaiting

I do not know the problem. I have not seen the meaning of the medium. Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone who knows a lot about nothing. I prefer to think I know a little about a lot instead. Does that mean you know a lot about nothing? Or maybe it is that you know nothing about a lot. That could be it. The complement should be there. Or course, rarely it is. You, on the one hand, like; I, on the other, do not. Relations are funny that way. Why is it that you are here? Were you invited? Was my world so important that you would have liked to come in and see for yourself that, in face, it was not? I am guessing the latter is the truth, as only I know that it is not the perfect place I make it to be. When will the world listen to reason? I have a feeling it will not happen. They will not know that I have been lost on them. They will not know that they have been displaced from the society that they so preciously consider their own. For this I know; that I am but one in a world that consists of nothing and to vanquish or conquer is inconsequential to the outcome. A world where those that surround me know little of me, where those who oppose me know more, and those who adore me know only what I will let them. They shall come and on that day we will see that it was not the end, but in fact a day that will release us all to be whom we were meant to be. Until that day, I sit excitedly waiting, as I know that my anguish will not be in vain.