I am increasingly lactose intolerant but I continue to eat ice cream. My bowels and I, hand in hand, all go down screaming.
I was told at a young age that we are all unique, individual like snow flakes but I have never seen snow,
I was given a name at age two. My given name at birth is something I still cannot pronounce. I think it just means “boy.”
Instead of stating the obvious likes and dislikes, I feel the need to qualify what I say with considered intellect. I don’t think I’m qualified, but I’m expected to be the authority on matters about myself.
I am a boy.
I’ve been around for roughly twenty-eight years, most of which were spent blindly pawing for something tangible. In the whole scheme of things, there’s nothing unique about this. My experience will expand and extend to the extent at which corresponds to another series of finite experiences had by another. I warm to this because I am not alone. I am universal. Not a snowflake.
I have lost the ability to be blind. That is not to say that I see everything, but I do make a valiant effort to.
I read Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man in highschool.
I believe that we all originate from somewhere. However, an origin varies on a particular set of circumstances that can be pinpointed to a locale, a time, an event, relying heavily on a fallible human system called memory.
I remember having at least forty-five cents in my pocket to mail you a letter. I have two quarters. I am right. I don’t think this will reach you.