The first to hide (In plain sight)

I stood there. Watching Vito. Watching Ace. Neither of them even noticed me, Demir, behind them. Then again, I didn't notice them in front of me. They seemed equally matched, and so it seemed I wouldn't be needed here, even if they did fight.

I might just be a spectator.

We do that occasionally.



It helps us remember that we exist in this living, breathing, world with its glass floor. It's how we keep from falling through the cracks, by watching, by learning, by understanding. I had been learning about those two for quite some time now. One is simple and brash, and the other appears to be more and less. They are two unique shades of opposition in this terribly bland ocean of normalcy.

You see, each individual has a tone to them. Each of their tones are different, imperfect, and unique to the point of interest. The amount they differ varies per person, but most of them don't get far from the gray standard. That is why they don't get noticed, initially. It's also why I don't get noticed at all, and why those two get noticed quite frequently. People tend to stand out either when they fight, or when their personalities and convictions are high-held and thoroughly polished. These two were both. I could see that look, seldom worn by most ignorant teens. It's the same look that starts wars, and topples empires.

I should know, I've watched those too.

I told you, we watch occasionally. To intervene, is left to us.

Still, today was not the day to intervene. Today was a day of peace. The calm on the battlegrounds before beliefs and opinions wage war, while money changes hands. It's always about similar people trying to exist with themselves, by themselves. And even if you cut the groups off from one another, there would always still be infighting. So then you think "Lets just isolate them individually," but then they complain and b**** about the lack of opposition and assisted-assertion. So that's what becomes of people, and their petty inabilities to tolerate anything but the thoughts that they have been spoon-fed since birth. They wake up in the morning, they re-assert themselves with some warped justification, they go through life, they fight, and they rest. 

These two were no different, and this school was their battlefield. Let them be soldiers and mercenaries. And let the rest of us not exist while we watch from the sidelines and cheer for our own desire to be inhuman.

The End

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