Cole Sear: I see dead people.
Malcolm Crowe: In your dreams?
[Cole shakes his head no]
Malcolm Crowe: While you’re awake?
Malcolm Crowe: Dead people like, in graves? In coffins?
Cole Sear: Walking around like regular people. They don’t see each other. They only see what they want to see. They don’t know they’re dead.
Malcolm Crowe: How often do you see them?
Cole Sear: All the time. They’re everywhere.
I see dead people too. Surely those who simply go through the motions of living aren’t really existing. We live in a culture that’s fascinated with the undead. Vampire and zombie movies, books, video games, and music make record sells. The world we live in is a segregated place with small fish drifting in an ocean they call ponds. Fear is no longer about losing a job or rights. It isn’t about being homeless or poor. People aren’t afraid of terrorists, bombs, or war.
The fear is not being loved or liked.
The fear is of being pushed outside of one’s comfort zones and security blankets.
People will live unhappy lives because they are absolutely frightened of being judged or ostracized. It is terrifying for them to not know what to expect. The possibility of going where people don’t look like them or think as they do makes them squirm with anxiety. They live routine existences just to be safe… to play it safe. The sun rises and falls in their bubbles. For those the world is flat outside of their zip codes. This is how they die, and it is a slow death. The most tragic… It’s prolonged suicide- a functioning body afraid to live its purpose.
I’ve said many times, I live in a world like the United Colors of Benetton or a panel at the U.N. because I must have my ideals pushed and challenged. If I only lived with reflections of myself, HOW? Tell me how could I grow??? Who would make me see outside my box, certainly not those who live in it with me. I need to be a square peg in a round hole to BE whole. Even if it makes me awkward, inappropriate, or gauche I keep pushing those boundaries. I’ve busted through to find beautiful people and places. I busted through to find we’re not so different after all. I busted through and found myself. I found out what I truly stood for, my character and morale were tested, and mostly my heart grew bigger. I found a love for life! I learned to appreciate the little things and take joy in the simplest pleasure.
My heart aches as I watch them. They have that permanent sorrow etched into their eyes. They are unfulfilled. Oh, my soul cries to give them the gift of assurance. I want to say, “It’s okay to fall down”. They don’t want to know though, so I just keep quiet and play pretend with them. I pretend they are equally alive. I pretend they’re happy. I pretend I don’t see the self- recrimination rimming their eyes. Sometimes I pretend to be broken too, just so they don’t feel self conscious or resent me, my freedoms. I’m not mad at them because I learned hurt people, hurt people. They have numbed themselves to the longing. I’m so full of life, death terrifies me. I have so much to do still. I don’t want to die until I can look at my life and know I did all I wanted to do. But them, No those… the sheeple, the sycophants, and the concealers do not fear being killed.
They’re already dead inside.
“How are you doing?” is a loaded gun. Every time they say, “I’m fine”. It’s a cry for help. Seldom do they reply, “Can you see the blood… that I’m Bleeding?!?”.