Through the earths whispers we suffer, drowning in our despair. Slowly creeping into the slurry of hopeless zombies that we call humanity.We claw at the surface for air, for creativity, for any way to seep away from these slaves, but our calls are ignored. Our creativity is found as "strange," or "weird," but that is far from the truth. The odd ones out survive. More than any one else EVER will. So, I ask you, what the heck gives you the right to call them, us, "weird"? Why are you better? Why do YOU even care? Truly, the ones who are different will be great in each and every way, while, simply, you will just be boring.