It seems as if the opposites always sees us as the kind that will stay put at home, with no friends and no other life other than home duties and boredom and when we do figure out a way to wiggle ourselves out with the specs of dust that grows between the red and yellow bricks of the pavement. (also known as our friends who finally enter our lives and the opposites don't seem to care whether or not we are at home or out there on our own without them)
I'm surprised by the images of myself always constantly feeling jealous, out-landed and an obscure amount of dislike whenever the opposites seem to bounce around the world like its nothing but a smoothly flattened surface with not even a bumpy spec about it.
I dream of that one day, when I stop feeling so raveled and so unfair towards the opposites. I was never the victim but the suspect of such a hopeless crime that even the longest time in exile will never change.
Hoorah for my hopelessness and welted hopes of ever changing.