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[an error occurred while processing this directive] When I was a little kid, I wished I could fly. But I can't. I never could. I remember running to tell mom every time I would soar off the hill on my glider, and plummet to the ground. "You almost did it. Just keep trying." There never was any room for almost in my life. Everything was so white or black. Off and on. Ones or zero. No almosts. All or nothing. That's what our society dictates. I am but a zero. Except when I am not a zero, then I am a one. When I am not asleep I am awake in a reality which I fight every day. When I am not at home I am at work in a crude factory where the product is society and the raw materials are human minds. I am not alive. I am not dead. I am almost a human being, caught between two extremes where I don't want to be. Mom would be proud. Too bad I still can't fly.

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