The world isn’t flat. This we already know, but we know it simply because we attempted to find out. Yet we don’t know, we just know that with the current set of information within the confined space that we live within, the world is round.

We don’t know what we’re about to know until we learn it. Until someone smacks our heads to the ground and paints a picture on our faces of reality, confining us all to the social norms that guide our every step; hand-cuffing us to the power of a you and an I, of a right and a wrong, of the beautiful and the ugly.

If I was elsewhere would I be free? Would I run through the hills without a drop of sweat falling down my bare back? Would I be able to look you in the eyes, dress down and laugh at the silly little scars on my left cheek? Would I roll down the hills without the fear of slamming into every rock on my way?

I cannot laugh, yet I cry when clinging my hands together to grasp reality and hold it all in. I could smash a window, jump from a height higher than the living room armchair, but what is the point if it occurs here and not there? The world isn’t your oyster, the oyster is your world. The only world you have and pearls just happen to be a rare commodity.

When time is still everything else continues to move. Social pressure throws dirt at your face if you don’t drive fast enough and speed through that countryside landscape. The beautiful fields of yellow, green and red turn into forty-nine shades of grey and brown. And you're left there, just driving, on and on and on.