The Fuzz

As the light blue fuzz feathered through the warm current of air purring from the heat vent, I saw before me a revelation. We are much like the light blue fuzz which feathered through the warm air of the heat vent.  This little blue fuzz drifts along with no true control over where it goes, the warm air controls it, and the air is controlled by the vent.  We are the fuzz. We are light blue in modesty and freedom. Light blue in suffocation. We feather and drift through the air, semi-conscious that we have no control, but we still enjoy the freedoms allowed to us by the air and by our constant motion.  However uplifting this may be, we are suffocated. Suffocated by the lack of any control. Suffocated of the one true freedom. We lack power and asphyxiate on the hypocrisy that we feed ourselves when we say we are free. This fuzz is piteous. It has no power, no control, and no sense of emotion.  We are the fuzz, pushed along by the warm air current that is societies expectations.  The heat vent that is authority creates the warm air that is expectations, and the heat is a mutual hatred of all who have ever met.  These expectations are put upon us.  Once we have entered the air current, there is no turning back. We are swept away by the flow and change of expectations. The fuzz follows the current for a time, and then drifts out and lands on the floor beside me. After its monumental journey the fuzz is free of the draft. The expectations are too gentle to affect us. The heat is still present, but not as extreme or as forceful as it was in the fuzz's early life. We think about the time before we entered this air current from the heat vent, and reflect on how is the same as we currently exist.  We are this fuzz, and the fuzz is free.