The Watching Shadows

Who will say anything more? There is but a shadow watching from a distant point, a barely visible speck. And yet it will be my downfall. It watches me with great interest as I go about the duties of the day; the sleep, the feeding, the cleaning, all necessary to sustain myself, all under the judgement of the faraway watchful eye. And yet nothing is said, no one cares, no one dares speak out. It looks on us all, looms over us from its faraway corner, watching silently, hoping we do not notice. And yet we do notice, but there is still denial, there is still doubt, and no word at all from the watchers. We facilitate the watchers by our own desires and fascinations with little more than unnecessary toys given to us by others, and yet convinced that they are essential to our survival. Their eye peers through and sees us closer and closer each day as we let our guard down. Slowly we lose what makes us human, independent, free, and alive. We lose ourselves in this Hell of our own making. We believe in the shadows and we do nothing, and in fact delude ourselves that they are our caretakers, rather than our incarcerators. We go on with our lives, which grow smaller in scope day by day.

One day, we will be crushed, and life will no longer be our own responsibility.