imagine a big round piece of rock and ice.
imagine it hurtling through deep space, light-years from everything.
imagine clinging to it, wrapping around it like the merest wisp of smoke, watching the stars go by. cold, but the cold is part of you, & alone, but that aloneness, singularity is at the core of you.
that's me.
then there's something bright from a very great distance
a little planet around a little star but
covered in tiny flames. warm & bright & so many
so i took very careful aim and,
i jumped.
fast and far as i could, skimming through nothing at the speed of thought
it took a long time & i started to miss my cold rock a bit but, eventually
i landed.
I wrapped myself around the whole blazing blue-green planet & for an instant i could feel see hear know every twitch every hair every blade of grass --
was too much, spread too thin, i had to jump again to the big, cold, empty rock in orbit -- it was comforting, reminded me of home.
i looked down & watched the little flames walk around on little legs & do things & say things but
none of it meant anything to me, & for the first time i felt not just alone but
lonely. &
i wanted to know what it meant.
i picked a big empty place & i made one last jump
i compressed myself down, down to almost nothing, down to to the size of a single cell. _became_ a single cell.
Later, i felt cramped and crowded and wasn't sure how to relate to anyone around me. I kept to myself and soaked up information about the physical world as quickly as i could, particularly information related to space and the stars. I avoided most social interactions because they felt uncomfortable and i didn't understand what the point was. Eventually, though (starting in late high school and continuing through university), i came to realize that the people around me were by far the most interesting things to study. Hence, i'm studying literature and biology to learn about people on a physical and mental level.
i guess that's about it?