HOME | DD

Description
It was always there. Every time he had walked past in the last month it had been there, just sitting. Nobody cared. Nobody ever cared. They always just looked the other way. They never so much glanced at it, or at anything else. Set in their ways. They didn’t want anything that could upset their set routine. Uncaringly they closed their minds to everything that shouldn’t be and tried to block out the wrongness in the world. They keep their problems behind a wall and never release anything that could be seen as wrong. Their neurotic demeanour they keep tucked away behind a tattered façade of polite and tempered hostility. They hide their idiosyncrasies and foibles in a box tucked up at the back of their minds, leaving themselves unemotional shells. It didn’t mind, though. Or at least he didn’t think it minded. He certainly wouldn’t have minded being ignored. He would have preferred being left alone. He was never taken as anything important by them, either, though they, for some reason, kept him busy with inane and endlessly nauseating jobs and tasks. Why they bothered to keep him at all, he had no clue. They just wanted to make him another one of them, he supposed. Another person whose personality had been buried further and further as the years crept along, another cold hearted, stony faced individual whose individuality had been leeched out after years of living with others of the same mindset. There were those who hadn’t been converted, of course. No society could ever have a population that was entirely similar. There has always been and always will be dissenters, and, of course, the insane. No matter if they try to hide them away behind walls, physical or otherwise. They may claim that they live in a utopia. But there will always be those who don’t subscribe to their way of life. There will always be those with problems that, rather than solving, society will push to the back of the crowd. He supposed he was one of those, even hoped that he was. He had no love of the world, he had no wish to become one of the many. He thought about the thing, sitting there, alone. Maybe it wanted them to leave it alone. They usually swept things like that away, to hide them from the public eye. He certainly hadn’t ever seen anything last so long. Sure, some things lasted a few days, maybe a week, before they were taken away. He wondered what they did with things like that. Strange; probably nothing. They probably just had some endless space were they shoved stuff like that. Imagine getting in. He loved thinking about that sort of thing. About all the things that shouldn’t be. He just loved thinking in general, but the purposeless things he liked the most. The things that everyone else discarded because of that very reason – their innate uselessness. They were so intriguing. He often wondered how they came about. It obviously wasn’t their doing – why create something that you didn’t want anyone to see and that you were just going to sweep away into some doorless closet? It must be the objects themselves. They just create themselves, and, every now and then, one of them manages to hold on. The thing he kept seeing was a prime example. He had given up trying to understand their reasoning long ago. He now knew that there was no one who could explain them. They certainly couldn’t explain them, so they were pushed away, and they just hoped they’d eventually give up. He, however, knew that they would continue. As long as there is reasonable things with purpose, there will be purposeless things to make up the balance.

Description
It was always there. Every time he had walked past in the last month it had been there, just sitting. Nobody cared. Nobody ever cared. They always just looked the other way. They never so much glanced at it, or at anything else. Set in their ways. They didn’t want anything that could upset their set routine. Uncaringly they closed their minds to everything that shouldn’t be and tried to block out the wrongness in the world. They keep their problems behind a wall and never release anything that could be seen as wrong. Their neurotic demeanour they keep tucked away behind a tattered façade of polite and tempered hostility. They hide their idiosyncrasies and foibles in a box tucked up at the back of their minds, leaving themselves unemotional shells. It didn’t mind, though. Or at least he didn’t think it minded. He certainly wouldn’t have minded being ignored. He would have preferred being left alone. He was never taken as anything important by them, either, though they, for some reason, kept him busy with inane and endlessly nauseating jobs and tasks. Why they bothered to keep him at all, he had no clue. They just wanted to make him another one of them, he supposed. Another person whose personality had been buried further and further as the years crept along, another cold hearted, stony faced individual whose individuality had been leeched out after years of living with others of the same mindset. There were those who hadn’t been converted, of course. No society could ever have a population that was entirely similar. There has always been and always will be dissenters, and, of course, the insane. No matter if they try to hide them away behind walls, physical or otherwise. They may claim that they live in a utopia. But there will always be those who don’t subscribe to their way of life. There will always be those with problems that, rather than solving, society will push to the back of the crowd. He supposed he was one of those, even hoped that he was. He had no love of the world, he had no wish to become one of the many. He thought about the thing, sitting there, alone. Maybe it wanted them to leave it alone. They usually swept things like that away, to hide them from the public eye. He certainly hadn’t ever seen anything last so long. Sure, some things lasted a few days, maybe a week, before they were taken away. He wondered what they did with things like that. Strange; probably nothing. They probably just had some endless space were they shoved stuff like that. Imagine getting in. He loved thinking about that sort of thing. About all the things that shouldn’t be. He just loved thinking in general, but the purposeless things he liked the most. The things that everyone else discarded because of that very reason – their innate uselessness. They were so intriguing. He often wondered how they came about. It obviously wasn’t their doing – why create something that you didn’t want anyone to see and that you were just going to sweep away into some doorless closet? It must be the objects themselves. They just create themselves, and, every now and then, one of them manages to hold on. The thing he kept seeing was a prime example. He had given up trying to understand their reasoning long ago. He now knew that there was no one who could explain them. They certainly couldn’t explain them, so they were pushed away, and they just hoped they’d eventually give up. He, however, knew that they would continue. As long as there is reasonable things with purpose, there will be purposeless things to make up the balance.