Jun. 5th, 2014

I've watched people be people for however many years and always wondered what it must be like. To be people. I've watched people display individuality as plumage- displays in service to a subtler god than ego. I've wondered. To know all the social answers. To fit... Even when people struggle, they fit! They fit. What is that like? Why is it so alluring?

I am not a snowflake. (Snow is white if and only if snow is white) I am not unique or special(beyond, y'know, we're all just so in our own ways aren't we, precious). It seems highly unlikely that I am much different than most. Statistically, you know...

Given the basic homogeneity of... People. You start to notice, after a while, after a decade or two watching:
People repeat.
Not, phrases, though yes of course that. People themselves. You start to recognize people when meeting them for the first time, noticing the cues, the identity manifesting again- maybe you have names for them-
There aren't that many. Maybe twelve. Maybe a hundred. Not many.

I've suspected that mine must be out there somewhere(and wonder where people place me, which personal category I claim). My clan. I've dreamed of them. Waiting for me. Searching for me. Maybe we are just more elusive, reclusive, less apt to band together, less willing to... Join.

And then. There are these rare individuals, these persons. Who defy categorization. These pillars of self- so often ignorant of their magnificence, their beauty... And maybe that ignorance is a part. I think I would rather bond with these than find any group kinship. I'd rather dive into your depths than share sweet nothings with tribes of shadows.


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