this might have something to do with my mother looking at me like i had three heads on the odd occasion i actually spoke what was on my mind. probably there are a hundred million of you who have been odd in the way i am odd but still here it is very lonely.
i don't know what it means to be alone with your thoughts and in fact i don't know what it means to be one who can have thoughts in the sense that one owns them rather than the other way around. yet at the same time i suffer in my own peculiar way just like anyone else who suffers.
i am not sure though what it is to be any particular one.