Ghosts in the machine

Can't really think of a reason for being seen in this world.
Much has been said about the value of friends and the like, but seriously, what is real in there?
What else can I expect, other than the occasional favor or loan?
What else is there in this social realm that I should be counting on?

People talk about this answer to loneliness as if it were set, like a clock.
This empty faith in the will of some deity as a replacement to their lack of true companionship...
... True love...
True will towards a better tomorrow. A swift and hard shift in what defines us as a race.
Something beyond Kant.

How high is the cost of this before us as a global community?

I think that being understood for who I am is over rated (or over stated in my silence),
especially when considering the alternative: being right about it all in a vegetative sea of men.

I know I have no answers to give. I know my ideas aren't answers on their own.
Much less my questions; just as much as this is not a poem or comeback.

This is a statement. A statement of my lack of things to say when looking at the world.

Our wrongs are so obvious to me and yet I feel like I am insane and alone in my thoughts.

I feel like there is no one else around to echo my horizon, my soul.

All the things, all shortcomings of us, all the reasons...
All unheard, unseen, or worst, driven to the oblivion of "the socially inadequate and insane".
The ghosts in the machine.
The socially inapt and distinct, flying under the radar, never braking laws,
never committing any crimes and never, ever, ever being moral.

The atheists.

My father: myself.
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Based on this video