They’re going to tell you that I’m crazy, and you’re probably going to believe them because I sound crazy, and there’s nothing I can do to persuade you that I’m not, even if everything I say is true, because the lies will have such pleasing colors and smooth shapes, and the truth will cut you open with its jagged edges and uncomfortable barbs, and I can’t blame you for wanting to avoid the same pain that makes me howl like a beast into the chaos of humanity, and I can’t blame you for ignoring my screams when they have told you I am crazy just because they’re scared of what I’ve seen and what I know and what I might reveal about the way they control us like viruses that creep in and become a part of the body even as they weaken it, and more than anything they are afraid that I might tell you how to remove their influence for good, but even if I told you what had to be done, you would say that I’m crazy, and I would answer that the whole world is insane, so the mad are the only ones you can trust.

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Story by Gregory M. Fox