On Being Human
When half of your day was worse than your personal depiction of hell, and the other half was soaring into the fiery zenith, head focused on an optimistic future.
When you can’t breathe because the accumulation of the emotional debris is too nuanced to reflect upon in the manner of the sane.
At this point in time I am beginning to think I will never understand what it is to be human, for we are such a selfish, flawed, cruel, beautiful, gentle, ugly, race.
And then I understand that I know what it is to be human. We are sickeningly breathtaking.