Other

I’m here. Really? Maybe. I don’t feel like I’m here. I feel far away from this place. They talk, to me, but I don’t hear them. Their words mean nothing to me. The contents mean nothing. It is as hollow as the rest of them.

Surrounded by hollow people, led by hollow people, treated as if I were hollow too. They teach evil deeds. They tell me the Other hates me, wants to kill me, and that I should want to kill them first. But is the Other not told this too? Do we not perpetuate that which we supposedly want to stop? This fabricated paranoia, does it serve any other purpose than to fear the Other? Does this paranoia we foster in our tribe fuel the very violence we claim that we must protect ourselves from?