We exist in your imagination where words can be spoken with no regret and stories told with no judgment. We are exactly as we want to be – no apologies necessary. You coax us through your writing mind so that we can become real to others, but once we emerge as ink on your page our magic is gone. We can no longer feel our individuality. We are exposed in front of you, judged, humiliated, and degraded. You cut us into pieces molding us to fit what you think others want us to be. Words are taken from our mouths and minds and replaced with something more acceptable. We begin to take on new shapes, our identities stripped again and again until we no longer resemble who we once were. We try to explain that you have taken our essence, but you tell us not to argue. You have deadlines to meet and you know what works. But now we stand before you, unrecognizable to ourselves and to you. You were supposed to bring us to life, but here in this malleable world we are hollow and lifeless – mirror images of everyone else.