Not the Same

Sometimes I forget that we are not all the same. We are all individual worlds spinning around in blackness, two telescopes pointed outwards, scanning the unknown for signs of life. Sometimes we find it. The signs. You can never really know for certain. Our scientists make their best guesses, draw up hypotheses about how life must work on other planets. We don't know though. We do not travel to other worlds, walk on the grass and speak with the people. It is hard not to operate under the assumption that we share a common consciousness.

When I was in fourth grade I decided not to talk so much. Much of who I am is very deliberate.

I almost biked to wisconsin.