Another day I find myself imprisoned in this rectangular space that is now my home, watching the world watching me, like an animal denied the liberties of nature for the sole purpose of entertainment. Trying to reach out to someone is futile, my restrictions are graver than that of most prisoners. It has even escalated to the point where the slightest graze of a jacket against my body would send my mind whirling into a kaleidoscope of joyous feelings. Alas all who come to see me are warned not to touch, just look and perhaps photograph.

I wonder how many photographs I am truly caught in. How many times have I been duplicated upon those small rectangular pieces of paper? How often have I been filed away in photo albums by people who only take them out to share the image of me with their loved ones? Forever embedded in their memory; those who have visited me will recall our encounter with a sense of personal pride. Something that distinguishes them from their peers and in a sense makes them superior to those who have not taken the time to stop by and experience the cruel exhibitionist lifestyle that I lead.

How can they not understand that I am as real as they are? Something that feels anger, hate, love, joy, sadness and all of the other conceivable emotions known to the inhabitants of this world. A woman came by to see me the other day and stood not three feet away from me. She stood for a good ten minutes just watching me in silence. Trying to take in all that is me and my current predicament. A tear welled up in her eyes as she was about to leave, and inside I was crying too. Yet I failed to interact with her. I was unable to communicate my state of solitude in a satisfactory manner. Restricted by myself, more than anything else, I watched as her and many others passed me by that day and even though I was surrounded by a multitude of people I continue to feel extremely alone. An ironic existence that I have been forced to endure.

To my right I have a magnificent view of a grassy shore that reaches out to a never-ending ocean through a small frame, which limits my ability to see the rest of the world. I have spent many hours gazing through this suppressive window. Imagining myself laying upon the grass looking up at the picturesque clouds floating in an all too blue sky. Living as a lone man in a boat that has lost it's bearings, traveling the sea in a futile attempt to either reach those who could help me or a way to invite the one true freedom that is death. However, my existence is much more pitiful than that of my other self, who lives in a world where the ability to move and dream is something that is taken for granted.

To the left of me I have a clear view of the monstrosities that can only be imagined in a spiritual realm of fiction. The crimsons and the blacks that stain the wall radiate benevolence and pain. The eyes that I often see in between splashes of depraved color stains judge me with a vigorous need to harm my placid existence. An abyss amongst them promises a journey directly into the seventh circle of hell, causing my all too white room to run a tarry black. As I watch them I feel the need to divert myself, save my innocence if you will, but nonetheless I cannot avert my eyes from the scene of true fear that is unimaginable unless experienced.

Today, however, hope has entered my body in a most fantastical manner. I saw them bringing in a potential candidate to share my personal confinement with me. A companion to join me in hours of discussion, but  more importantly, someone to help me ignore the world that watches me in my own personal limbo. I caught but a glimpse of him as he was being rudely carried to the room of all too invasive preparation, where he would then be permitted to join me in the midst of this forcefully desolate microcosm.

My mind already had begun to imagine what it would be like to connect with someone else. To feel together, to laugh together, to live together and fight each other. We could be the best of friends or the worst of enemies, but either way I would no longer be left alone with my thoughts. I would have someone to sit and revel at the wonders of the world with. Finally an escape from this unceasing torture. I would suffer no more at the hands of alienation, rather begin a new life where I could truly reach out and encounter time with another of my kind.

I knew that getting my hopes up too high was a dangerous path to travel, but the act of repressing this feeling was absolutely impossible. I have spent too much time with not the slightest bit of hope, and my sanity could easily be questioned after all these forsaken years. Now I stand waiting for my contingency to escape this deep dark inferno, where fire would be welcome but nothing can burn in my barren wasteland of a life.

That's when I saw him again. He was being brought to me, in all of his glory. His deep eyes revealed that he was a real thinker, someone I could share the marvels of earth with. A true sculpture of liberty above limits, glory against death and love overpowering pain. Then they carried him past my room and out of my field of vision. This had happened once before; the hopefulness quickly shattered by utter disappointment. Despairingly I tried my best to hold my composure, I knew this could have been a possibility. No one would ever join me, I am doomed to face this turmoil with only myself as a guide.

Once again, caste in copper, carelessly named after another, I stay in my bleak desert with no one but myself. Upon this stand that holds me safely upright I view the world through eyes that wish for a companion to give them a reason to cry. A heart that wishes for someone to break it and a mind that longs for a counterpart to learn from and teach to. I am but a sculpture trapped in an actuality that is destined to remain alone.

I have seen wonders like none you could imagine. I have been given the opportunity to invoke emotions so strong upon those who gaze upon me that their eyes have welled up with tears and their hearts have soared to higher levels of perception. People have analyzed me, just as I have analyzed them, hence imparting a myriad of new perspectives in each others minds, which all lays heavily inscribed in the rust that decays the copper that is me. Yet here I stand in my solidarity and the only true emotions I have managed to muster in all my years of life are those of isolation, seclusion and most of all loneliness.