Scatterbrain

Some thoughts December 13
What makes us human is completely foreign to me. What makes me different from everyone else? And why do I feel so isolated most of the time when I’m really smothered by so many? I can be content sometimes, but there is always a ray of transparent sadness that seethes through my existence. The thought that my being is contingent on this desperation paralyzes me sometimes, but then I come upon finding that this is the very essence of what makes us human. To feel and to feel loneliness soothes my aching mind far more than it should, but the state of being content washes over me and I, once again, have the capability to breath in lungfuls of sweet, serene air. And to feel this very human pain and isolation completes me, for I am far more complete than you will ever be.