Unfit

They call us many things. Mind Rakers. Tele-Creepos. Thought Police. Words of scorn. Words from the throne, backed by steam airships and goliath mechanoids.Yet, I have hidden, and I won't be controlled. I will live a normal life like any fellow serf–even if fluorine power is in short supply, and riots plague my city while our leaders do nothing.But does a normal life want me? I don't quite get on in school, or with my peers. Have I reached too high above my station or spoken my secrets to the wrong pairs of ears?Sometimes I think I'm drowning. At times I want to quit. Can I survive this madness?I think I'm just unfit.