POV (ALEC)
Paper, it is suppose to weigh next to nothing, and yet the minute words are scratch upon its surface, it can change the course of history. It's worth becomes unaccountable, and the writer, well they can be revered as a god or the devil himself. Then why, why do people write down their ideals and share them with the world, when the results are so fickle? Are they exhibitionists? Do they crave the a spotlight the pulpit brings, or do they truly wish to aid and help mankind in their constant struggle to survive? It was a question that was now spinning around in my head, as I stood in front of the faction leaders doors. The doors I could not dare touch or even comprehend the very notion of opening. For the minute I walked in, I was certain the room would view me as mad or a monste
