So today, for the first time, I’m starting to feel that instead of staying in this country forever, I should make a run for it.
So it’s good to know I’ll always have a place to run to.
Isn’t it sad that such a thing is becoming “good to know”?
What does it mean to be human?
To serve ourselves; to do what we like; to think and be intrigued; to be happy, and smile at something; to get sad, and want to yell it all out, as loud as you can.
To have a good friend who can understand you, and tell you what he wants you to do, and that everything will be okay.
To think about what you have done, and be proud; and think of what you will do, and be anxious.
To have an impossible ambition, and then do it anyway.
To fly high into the sky.
To like yourself.
Perhaps one day I can be human.
What does it mean to be brave?
And, you know, if we’re getting all philosophical, I do think that it’s not wrong to not be human: whichever way works for you. But I do want to be human, and I don’t really want to patiently wait for a helping hand until I die.
You probably don’t know me, and I probably don’t know you. That’s fine.
I mean, if you wanted to find out who I am, it’s pretty easy.