July 10, 2001

I love people. I really do.

I'm fascinated by the little strangeness. The logical illogical things they do. I like to listen to the kind and cruel things they say in the very same second. I like to know how indominidable and fragile they are. Their willingness to go on even as they shatter.

I've always wanted to know what goes on inside. What scares them. What brings joy, what do they take on faith, and what would break them.

If was a god, I'd make people exactly like we are. Small and tiny with no knowledge of what's real and what's ephemeral. What's the point of being brave if you're omnipotent?

I see friends kissing tenderly and remark on the existance of love. I hear stories of anguish and wonder at how much we are intertwined together, it's like amputation if two people split apart.

Despite the unevenness of American Beauty, when the boy talks about how much beauty there is in the world, I know what he means.

All I want is to understand why people say and do the things they do. It makes me feel a little more like a god.

Or maybe it helps me understand what it means to be a human being, so that, one day, I can feel like one.