I feel unplugged from something in this life, he thought. Unable to decipher what I'm supposed to do. Like an insect with broken antennae. During the week my days smell of anxiety. I need validation. He stood as tall as his stature would permit and stared down the camera. I don't know who I am as a person let alone who I'm meant to be as a game show host, he sadly reflected. Someone called action. He smiled.
Welcome. Anonymous Author holds a mirror to the face of humanity, asking what it really means to be human,
and in doing so blurs the line between what is good and bad writing.
