I was born, alone. I just didn't know it.
Then I was a child, staring at the back of my own
hand, and wondering
Why? How come?
Did everyone? Aren't they all wondering, too? Does
Iíd look at my hand. And peer at the lines. Squint
at the little shapes between the lines. Surely I could see deeper
to the cells. I thought about cells, so many cells! I looked at
my hand and simply marveled at the sheer fact of being alive. Put
my hand over my chest, and felt my heart pumping.
How is this? What makes it go?
It scared me, with fascination, that no other person
on this earth, in this universe, or in all of history, knew Me.
Felt what Me felt like. How could this be? Why is it so? Billions
of us, alone. No one else could be me. Or you. Know me. Or know you.
Or ever possibly understand each other.
What is it to be alive? How does it happen?
Everyone else must be trying to find the answer too. Arenít they?
If all the little six year old girls in the world thought about
it shouldnít someone have come up with the answer by now?
I knew this was sad. I knew it was not necessary.
Alone then. Alone in my head, just me and my thoughts.
Not content to be just thinking, so I pondered
my thoughts. What are they then? Do they have life,
like the cells? Or do the cells have a life like my thoughts.
We will stop being alone when we talk
with our thoughts
If I thought hard enough, someone must hear me.
Could I travel the sky on my thoughts, if my body wasnít earthbound?
I knew I could swirl my mind around and around, and float away if
I wanted to. I wondered and I swirled. I left the earth once, but
it reclaimed me. This, too, was sad. I knew it wasn't necessary.
But I learned to accept it and wish now I hadn't.
We are alone. I am me, you are you. I think. You think. We may even
be having the same thoughts. But you donít know, and I wonít know.
We are all just alone.
And it is still so unnecessary.