Light, happy laughter breaks out in the room. I can't help but smile and wish to know the joke. I stand up and draw closer to the group and I strain to listen to what was the source of their laughter. Listening to their random remarks, I try to piece it together. I frown - their joke was me

In their world they're superior and nothing else matters. They know not the meaning of suffering - why should they? They're perfect.

For once, they should see what it is like, what it feels like to be laughed at, belittled and stepped on. Maybe then they will understand that they aren't the only ones who have the right to exist.