A Sense of Real - at Biolife

Here I sit, by myself, in a crowd of maybe twenty poor souls. Meaningless chatter abounds as machines whizz and cylindrical vile's spin, red as ripe cherries. This is a feeding ground, a place where humans are harvested for what they can produce; their innards slowly drained until their time is up. The oddity, however, in this scenario however isn't the amount of human liquids absorbed here daily, or the sheer massive number of beings that come in this door willingly. No, not the bland tan walls or the emotionless off-white ceiling tiles illuminated by a yellowing white accent lighting that happens to be hidden in the recesses of the wall's overhangs (which strangely no one notices, as hideous as it is). Nor is it the peppy music used to disguise the anguish, the pain, the desperation of those individuals who come here on their own accord out of pure survival instinct to increase liquid capital or die from lack of it. The white elephant, not talked about here yet known as the universal truth for all whose hand forced them into such a position is in fact the very same physical entity that drives countries to war, spouses to feud and separate, as well as cause such a rift in American culture that cannot be gapped save by the destruction of this entity. It feeds off the greed, the desperation, and success we all see. What I am describing is nothing less than a green monster whose luster used to be magnificent, and now has lost us in a false reality: $$$.

Sometimes the most revealing of thoughts comes when sitting in the most peculiar of places.