The one thing that is just so incomprehendable and distraughting to me is that I will never know what it is like to be anyone but me… I’ll never know what it’s like to be my lovers; I’ll never know what their lives have been like or what they’ve been through…I’ll never know any of it, and it frustrates me. I am stuck in my own corner of the universe and I will never be able to fully understand another human being–even after all my philosophical studies–I will never be able to see the world or this universe from someone else’s place. And that just makes me oddly sad.
I wish I could crawl into their skin and take up their emotions and feel what they have felt. Not to judge it or change it, but just to know it, the way that only they have known it. The bad, the good; everything.
I wish I could think their thoughts and reason as they do and see the world from their corner as only they can see it.
And it makes me sad that I will always be this far away from them, far enough that I am outside of their psyche and can never enter it. Estranged by the limitations of even our souls. I am never them, they are never me, and thus, we will never see or function as one another.