This ship has sailed across an endless ocean. It has faced many storms, been through its own share of rough waters. As it makes it way across the ocean that stretches into the horizon, its sail becomes worse for the wear. It goes on, it still goes on, because it knows, it feels, it believes, that the ocean will end, that sooner or later, it will find an island, where it can dock, and repair. Yet, it is insane with visions, it is insane with hope. Time goes on, and it sees mirages of land. It soon becomes the exact opposite of the dehydrated man lost in the Sahara, looking for a bit of land, and a mass of water. Other boats go whizzing by, driven by some powerful new motor. The boat looks mournfully at these others; it was once like them, yet as its life went on, it had been degraded, pieces of it slowly being ripped away until it was stripped to its bare necessities. It became degraded so much that it started not caring about reaching its destination. Rather it took one week, or one eon, it was all the same. The boat morphs, changes into a person, crawling, weak, and out of breath. The other boats change to track stars, running down a field of glory, achieving their dream. They have long achieved where this boy has failed. They keep going, and they become stronger as the boy grows weaker. Yet the downfall of the boy's immune system is not the only thing afflicted by these hardships done against him. The boy is steadily, getting a shot, a dosage of Novocain, a mental Novocain, an emotional Novocain. The boy grows numb, numb to the joy, numb to the pain, numb to everything around him. His brain turns to a miserable macabre tool, and he is being used by his numb subconscious. This subconscious that wants what he has grown numb to. Yet he is slowly over dosing on this Novocain, and all these emotions slowly drain together. He feels as if his mind became a canister, each emotion being a different hue. The reds, the blacks, the blues, the greens, were all tipped out, mixed together, and poured down a sink. As they go down, they mix together, and form a meaningless gray, a hue without emotion, devoid of any relation of negativity or positive thinking. This is how he feels most of his life alone, where the thoughts of despair come and take over his mind, mocking a military seize. So he goes on, this gray boy, with his colorless mind, and his hopeful numb subconscious. He puts on this mask of assurance, and he paints a picture over his mind. A picture and a mask that is full of color, one to fool almost anyone. He joins in the games of every one else; he walks out side, into the fields, where all of society plays. He looks at them with sadness, he looks at them with a feeling of loss, and he looks at through a shade of green. He sees the pain in their eyes, he sees the joy in their eyes, and he is filled with uncontrollable emotions, and he cries for them. He cries for their loss, he cries for their blind eyes, he cries for their innocence in this game. Those tears for them turn to his own tears, he cries for his own losses, he cries for his numb mind, he cries for his negligence to compete. He wishes, he hopes, that he can join the game, run up, and know how to play, and become one with society. Yet he feels he cant, he feels that no sooner does he run into that field, and join every one else, that some referee will pull him out of the game. This referee would yank him out, and say that he doesn't belong, that the game isn't right for him and that he never deserved to play it in the first place. Because of this the boy is sad now, the boy has nowhere to run, and it has everywhere to run. He wants to find someone, anyone to help him out, yell everyone he turns to, seems only to prosper. They seem to knock his problems down, and used them as steps, to ascend higher and higher. He watches them, go through the same things he went through, yet, for some ungodly reason, the one thing he did wrong, they do right. Suddenly, their life is full of happiness, and everything that can go good, becomes good. And suddenly, his life is full of sorrow, and everything that can go bad, becomes bad. He sees all these things go great for his peers, and the world takes on the role of a museum. Everything to him is an exhibit, a priceless exhibit, valued above everything else. Yet, sticking on the ropes that surround these precious exhibits is a sign. That sign is what hurts the must, for it tells him that he can look, but not touch. So, down this hallway of displays he walks, staring at things that he cannot interact with. For, the people that run the museum fear that as soon as he touches an exhibit, he would break it, and cost a fortune. Near the end of one hall, the boy sees a display that he likes. He walks up towards it, and is blinded by its perfection. It is like so many others he has seen, yet with a possibility of being different. The boy leans closer to the statue, become inches away from its face, and he sees tears streaming down the statues eyes. The boy reaches out his hand, to wipe away the tears, and no sooner does his hands get an inch away from the statue's face, does he receive a shock. He jerks his hand back and to accompany the flood of pain comes the image of the sign. He realizes that he can't interact with this statue. Yet, surges of emotions come pouring through his body, and he rips down the rope, throwing the sign clear across the room. He runs through the invisible barrier, which can no longer hurt him, and he runs up to the statue. With his words, he wipes away the tears, with his kind thoughts he wipes away the tears. With each wipe, he sees hope, and chances that this is what it he has been missing. Then, just as his hope had reached its limits, he is woken up by a phone call. This was all a dream, a dream full of false hope. This is a dream that he drove in, passenger to his subconscious. This subconscious that, numb in the real life, tries so desperately to tell him what it needs in his dreams. The boy lets the phone ring, not wanting to talk to anyone, wanting only to be alone, where he can splash around in the pool of his own self pity isolated. With nothing else to do, and without a choice, the boy makes his way to school. Suddenly, he sees a person, and he sees them in pain. A sea of déjà vu washes over the boy, yet, he knows what he is going to do and he can't stop himself from doing it. So, he walks up towards the person, and wipes away their tears, and he begins seeing hope and their radiant face. The stronger they become, the stronger he becomes. As each minute passes him by, it takes along the feeling of uncertainty. Then, all comes to a screeching halt, the comfort the boy offered was just an act of kindness, and the person's problems are solved. They are solved without pain, just as easy as his problems had been had been solved painful, and grueling. So, it finds his dreams are true, and once again, his subconscious plays a key role in his life. Yet he can't help himself now, he is still under the influence of the drugs he had taken. He is still numb from what he wishes to experience. He is still immune to all the love that can exist between two people. After too many harsh experience, after being down to many rocky roads, he finds that he has become numb, and immune to what had brought him so much joy, yet so much more pain. So, until either the boy wakes up again, and finds everything a dream, or until the numbness in his mind seeps away, he will always be an observer, in the museum that is focused on permanent happiness.