It’s a headache. A migraine. An itch, the pox, a flicker, a disaster. Maybe I make it vocal, well at least to you. Maybe I’m the one who says it, but it goes on in your mind, in everyone’s mind. I want to be somebody. You have that mutual un-satisfaction of originality. But how can we be original if there are 6 billion exact copies walking around? We want to stand out. The only way to do this is to be the hero. And if you can’t be the hero, be the victim. A hero is hard, it takes effort and work, and it takes compassion and self righteousness. We go for the easier route. The freeway. We make ourselves the victims. Wallow in our self pain, emphasize and exaggerate until the eyes that don’t see are there, until the unhearing ears we need listen. And because we strive of this, depend on it, we believe it in others. And we grow around it, until all of us are forged, and all of us are fake. All of us are you.