manufactured Lives

the faces came forth from the night again. but this time it was different. this time it was my face, with a few quietly behind it, watching intently for response--so i whispered

--

it's time...

to start tearing away artificiality. to stop lying. to tell them what they want to know. to breathe. to find peace--to feel warmth. and to show you what i am.

so ask, and i'll try to answer. anything. i'll not avoid you--i'll not ignore you. i may have trouble being quite that open..but i will try. i'll do it, because you have questions. and those questions are burning a hole in the back of my mind, purely because i know they exist. i want you to know me. i want someone to understand--not that anyone can. beyond that, i can't ask for anything.

sometimes, you have that selfish little piece of you that just wants...

and you can't finish that thought because then, if you actually get what you want, it wouldn't be real. it would be someone playing to your emotions.

i want to feel what's real.

nothing is real anymore. everything is manufactured..you go to eat, for example, and you see processed chicken, genetically 'enhanced' tomatoes, pre-scrambled eggs from a plastic jug, orange juice from concentrate. all manufactured.

go to an office--you'll come across 'instant' coffee (now. call me a skeptic, but i doubt they've developed faster coffee beans), plastic foliage in a basket in the corner, that strong top-of-the-line cologne smell, even the fluorescent lighting. manufactured.

alright--let's head home: t.v.--artificial contact with the outside world, security system stuck to your wall by the door--false sense of security, air conditioning--manufactured air.

manufactured air. fine. take a trip down the sidewalk--people. faces. dressed to show their personalities--which in turn have been conditioned and manufactured by the world around them. or their perceptions of that world. either way, they've constructed this 'life' of artificiality. their faces wear an occassional smile, and greeting followed by form responses
hi, how are you? ...good. i'm fine..
manufactured.
what's that supposed to mean? 'i'm fine.' smile. he gives you the same smile everyone sees. the one he paints on, until he turns the corner and wipes it off with his factory polyfiber handkerchief with a sigh. manufactured smiles. manufactured responses. manufactured expectations.

'conditioned', 'enhanced', 'processed'..all nice 'modern' words to make life seem that much more real. i can't even trust a plant sitting in the corner to be real. 'you'll be alright? i'm there if you need anything.' there. what's here?

nothing. and that's what is real. manufactured truth. manufactured lives.

i want to be real.

--

i realise i was speaking to Them, you, and to part of myself--parts and pieces that don't want to listen. pieces that i haven't seen in far too long.

i'm complaining again..not to mention, i've been living a life as manufactured as anything else. i'm sorry. it's selfish, and not fair to you.

i'm sorry.



smear time with truth.