Who are we? The warm wind blows the loose strands of my ponytail. The scorching heat of the black pavement blisters the bottoms of my feet yet I feel no pain. The sun threatening to peel away the soft pureness of my skin. I walk down the sidewalk cracked with age. Head phones pulling against my ears that hold the freed cries from within. I look around counting the advertisements. 21, 22, 23… People push and shove to get to where they are told they needed to be. Who are we? Things that breathe no life constantly controlling our lives. The innocence we are born with is hidden or pushed out to make room for something fake and demanding. Our personalities are able to be categorized. To fight it means to be different. We are forced to hide in the shadows and watch. We develop disorders. We are called crazy. We are called strange. I want to come out. I want to live in a world that accepts all. To be treated like humans and not as money makers. But for now, I take another step.